#•hope its okay! i hope i did this au justice•

[wanderingpages]

idk if you do requests outside of jurdan but its been in my head like tattoo artist Rowan and receptionist Aelin? and dating? and like...smut? ahhh thank you bye

∞

Rowan frowns when he sees her, sitting on the step just to the side of his shop. It’s been raining on and off all weekend, only now subsiding to a foggy mist, turning the small town as gray as Rowan’s reluctant to admit he’s been feeling. Aelin is under an awning, so she isn’t quite wet, but the damp strands of her hair is enough to let him know she’s at least ran through a sudden downpour from her car to where she’s currently at. She perks when he approaches, squinting but the pretty gem like hues in her eyes are still breath taking to him. She’s grinning wide and it breaks something in him, something he hates to even acknowledge he’s built up over the past few days. Aelin stands, bouncing from her tip toes as he nears her. Even heightened by the step, he still towers over her. She doesn’t mind tilting her head up, though.

“Hi,” She says.

His lip tilts upward, “Hi,” he responds. She takes a step to the side, and he reaches behind her to open the door. He gestures her first, letting her lead the way up the steps, to his apartment. Her shorts are high waisted, and he’d always tease her about her pairing it with oversized sweaters, much like she’s wearing today, because it made no sense to him - to be only partially warm. He does not point out the goosebumps on her legs, knowing he’d only get a narrowed eye response instead.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” She murmurs, ruffling her hair a bit. “Wasn’t sure if you’d answer, with your appointment today.” As his front receptionist, Aelin is well versed in all the clients booked for months in advance, so he’s not surprised that she knows he had an eight hour session, inking a regular customer of his. She probably also knows he should feel absolutely drained right now -  barely managing to remember to buy food before returning home - but he’s not. Rowan is absolutely zinging with unchecked energy.

It probably started the day she walked into his shop to answer an ad the previous receptionist had posted. Sparked when she’d ask him to pierce her not long after. Maybe it snowballed with her opting to stay behind after hours, using the break room for her class assignments, quietly keeping him company when sessions had flown well into odd hours. It definitely ignited when she’d kissed him goodnight on a whim, running off to her car before he’d even gotten the chance to comment.

It's been kindling when he’d gotten her chocolate during his lunch break one day and then every day after. When she'd left him a note the next day. When he had invited her up for dinner, when he had dropped her off to class the morning after, picked her up some time in the afternoon. When he thought it was cute when she eyed the women who get inked by him, flustered him when he felt jealous over a guy flirting with her.

They hadn’t been shouting it from rooftops. In fact, if Rowan’s honest with himself,  he’d been the one to keeping it under the radar – he’d felt bad enough because of the age gap, but to add the fact he’s her boss as well? Yet, roles applied still didn’t mean Aelin did not have complete control over him, mind body and soul. It took him a while to accept it, but he was all hers.

He just finds himself wondering if she was all his, too.

She reaches up to the ledge above the door, finding the spare key he’d shown her some time ago, and easily opens the door, jiggling the knob just right and giving it a quick kick after turning the key twice. She holds it wide open for him, toeing off her soaked kicks as he enters. He sets the food on the counter, before working on his boots and tugging off his hoodie.

“Were you waiting long?” She leans against the shut door, watching him undress like she hasn’t seen it more than a few times before, still it reddens her cheeks, despite the utter conservativeness of it all. She bites on her lip like she’s waiting for a show and he can’t help the small chuckle he lets out.

She shakes her head, coming back to the moment. “No." She shrugs as if its any consolation for her wait, "I missed you,” she smiles at him, almost shyly. It had been some time since they’d last been able to speak to each other properly. Despite her spending most nights with him, she had requested a few days off of work for finals, and he was at that point of the year where all him and his artists were booked until the end of summer. Still, he’d manage to find a few hours, and eager as he was to finally just be with her, Aelin had turned him down. He’d been too late, apparently, she’d already made plans. He frowns, trying not to think about it, hating the way it makes him feel, if he’s to be honest with himself.

“Missed you too,” he lets her know, heading to the cupboards to grab some plates. He divides the food, half for him and half for her, while she takes a seat at the table, tucking her cold toes beneath her. They talk idly, comfortably, touching when they can – hands, shoulders, knees. They seem to only gravitate closer to each other, stealing from the other’s plate, talking lower to have their heads meet in the middle, leaning closer to steal quick kisses – it’s all very domestic, so then why is Rowan feeling so goddamn feral?

They’ve managed to move to the couch, he’s leaned back watching a game he can’t quite say who’s winning or what sport it even is and Aelin is turned to face him, kneeling beside him, feet tucked like they had been before and she’s touching the ink on the side of his face tracing the patterns to the scruff of his hair. “When are you going to ink me,” she teases.

“When you know what you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your roots are growing,” she comments, tugging lightly at the overgrown locks where dark meets silver. He smiles but it's wary. His hand rests on her hips and he squeezes lightly, and without thinking, he leans his head on her, pleased to find that thump of her heart beating roughly against his ears. Aelin lets out a sigh, raking her fingers into his moonlight locks and finally asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” he debates on bottling it up, because maybe this is a generational thing and dating means something different to him than it means to her.

“You seem… out of touch with me,” and her voice splinters at the end, going so soft, it almost gets drowned out by the insistent pumping of her heart in his ears.

He holds her tighter, and finally admits, “I… I walked by the bar after work that day.” Maybe she hadn’t meant to purposely leave out exactly whom she was planning to meet up with, but the guilt ridden look on her face tells him that she’d thought nothing good would come from Rowan knowing this information. “Did you think I wouldn’t know about your date?” he tries to smile but it feels all wrong – he had tried to be teasing, but he’s hurt – angry even. “Or did you think I wouldn’t have trusted you?”

“We were just talking,” she tells him, “It wasn’t anything serious.” Rowan holds his tongue, figuring maybe if he’d been more public with their relationship instead of sneaking in kisses during the day when no one’s watching, treating dates as secrets, and avoiding answering questions by their peers, maybe he wouldn’t feel as shitty as he does now. “I should have told you – but I didn’t think it meant anything – it still doesn’t mean anything.”

He tilts his head to look up at her, holds her steady and reaches with his free hand to touch the ends of her hair, twisting sunlight around his finger almost absently. “This is new – everything with you is new,” he confesses. He doesn’t want to be that guy – the one who’s insecure about his girl hanging with other guys, doesn’t want to second guess when she says she’s made plans. He traces down her arm, grabbing the tips of her fingers and leading them to his lips, kissing them lightly. “I trust you,” he lets her know, “So please,” he begs, watching the flush in cheeks, the tug of her bottom lip between her teeth, “Don’t make a fool out of me, Aelin.”

“I promise,” she says, not even a beat later and just the same, he’s tugging her on top of his lap. The television casts an array of colors like an aura behind her – godly, he thinks. She bends forward, her hair curtaining them, encasing them with a familiar scent. “Maybe I should have let you known,” Aelin says quietly, “That when I'm with you, I'm with you. No one else.” Rowan’s hand glides just under her sweater, fingers splaying where he knows birthmarks hide. His other hand weaves gently into her hair, pushing strands back, behind her ear, palm pressing to her cheek, holding her face steady when he shortens the distance and kisses her so softly. Her toes curl, knees on either side of him squeezing his thighs. He brings her closer to him, so close the fabric of their clothes begin to imprint and indent against their skin. “I’m sorry,” Aelin murmurs against his lips.

She’s rough when she’s kissing him again, desperate, like she needs to show him she means it and this is the only way she can think of. And when Rowan bites at her lips, he knows she doesn’t mind because her hands are at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper against her, then she guides his lips down her neck when she can’t seem to get air in her lungs. His teeth scrapes against her flesh, her nails against his. He breaks only to get her sweater off, digits immediately at her navel, fingerprints covering the golden charm he had so carefully pierced into her skin. He mouths at her breasts, pulling her bra down enough to latch on to a nipple. She calls out his name in surprise, hips grinding hard against his. His tongue flicks roughly against the nipple before it flattens over her, soothing the ache while Aelin rubs her hips against his, frantic for more friction.

He should slow down, he thinks, biting at the swell of her breasts, blooming pink and reddening marks wherever he can. He’s never been this rough with her before, never thought of his markings as punishment - but she’s guiding his hand to her the buttons of her shorts, fumbling to get them undone, “Rowan… - I, ahh,” she doesn’t mind. More, she wants to say, but she doesn’t have to, his fingers are right where she wants them, working fast and expertise, having her panting and quivering and he’s not even in her yet, just rubbing her between her folds, soft then faster, and when he presses down on her clit, she’s screaming into his shoulder, trying to muffle her cries when she comes.

She’s still breathing rough when he has her on her back, her bra behind the couch, her shorts and underwear right at his feet. His shirt came off, but his jeans are just barely undone, settling below his hips, because he’s feeling so fucking frantic. “Wait – ah,” she throws an arm over her eyes, trying to settle the stars swimming in her vision, “need to breathe,” she tells him, though she lets him spread her legs wide and position himself right between her. Her stomach tenses on the contact alone. Her chest heaves up and down, she’s coming down but not quite there yet. Her body jolts and she twitches involuntarily, knees shaking when the tip of his cock slides right between her folds.

He likes her like this – he likes her in a lot of different ways, but especially this. Her hand flies to his bicep and he has a full view of how her face contorts, how her eyes screw shut so tight that her nose scrunches up. “Look at me, princess,” he murmurs, “let me see those pretty eyes,” she opens her eyes, a wave of colors akin to the sun meeting the ocean, and her lips part as he slides his cock up and down, pressing the tip to her clit. His breath is hot in her ears, “You can catch your breath later,” is all the warning he gives her when he pushes into her.

She cries out, fingernails digging into his arms, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Ah!” she’s not yet fully back from her first orgasm, but it already feels like an onslaught of much more hitting her in succession, too quickly, too soon. One of Rowan's hand is holding a thigh in place, at angle just right, hitting her fucking womb with every thrust. His other hand is placed against her stomach, and she feels like she’s going to explode – at a loss for words, at a loss for all her senses, Aelin really only knows his name. “Ro – ah… ah! Ro...wan…” She manages to move her hands to his face, pulling him closer, heads touching when she gets lost in his eyes. Tears prick, and her breath catches. Her chest feels so tight but she just wants him to consume her. “Ah…” she manages just hoarse little noises, overwhelmed he’s fully inside of her, and he begins to just rotate his hips enough that his pelvis rubs against her swollen clit.  “Want… it…” she gets out, gibberish in her slurs, “Want you…”

Rowan moves out of her slowly, “You’re so good,” he murmurs, thumb moving to press her clit. She weeps, drawing blood when her nails scrape down the back of his neck. He feels himself sliding in and out of her, the palm of his hand practically caving into her abdomen. He’s fucking her so deep and so hard, he feels like he’s absolutely losing himself in her. “You look… so beautiful,” Rowan whispers, maybe for the first time with the way her eyes flash in surprise. “Look how well you take me,” he murmurs, in place of the awful possessive shit he really wants to say. "So good..." He’ll hold his tongue from saying, “this is mine – you’re all mine.” He makes sure to embed it into her skin instead, makes sure Aelin still feels him when this all over, makes sure he leaves his marks on her like lewd little tattoos.

[rosenclaws]

So This Is Love (Cinderella AU) || Logan x Reader

summary: You've spent most of your life being your stepfamilies maid and nothing more. But a chance encounter and an announcement of a royal ball could change everything.

warnings: fem!reader, toxic family, loss, angst, arguments, abusive household, fluffy ending. Typical cinderella story stuff

a/n: Okay so I am so excited for this!! I adore cinderella. Both the 1950 and the 2015 one. I kind of mixed both for this story and then added a few things myself. Also the dress I had in mind was the one from the 2015 movie because it's fucking gorgeous. I hope you all love prince Logan and that I was able to do the classic cinderella story justice. I also tried adding some x-men related names to keep the logan vibes but idk if its weird or not im sorry afasdfghj

Kindness.

Your mother always told you how important that was. To be kind even when the world looked down upon you for it. Treat everyone and everything with a gentle hand a nice smile. That's the way she lived her life. Always with a smile on her face. She just glowed. Your earlier memories of her were filled with joy and laughter. Going to the town market and greeting every one who ran the stalls.

The flower merchant was your favorite. Every time she had the prettiest flowers of all sorts of colors. Your mother always let you pick out one and place it in your hair. You had never felt more beautiful. Your father was just the same. The two of them were in love and everyone could see just how happy the little family was.

Then one day your mother got sick.

She fainted in the yard. You were only a child, your mother wouldn't wake up. You rushed to get your father and the next thing you knew you were sitting outside of her room being told it was time to say goodbye.

The light seemed to dim that day. Your father, he did his best. He loved you and tried to make you smile but things grew tougher and tougher for the two of you. He remarried to a woman who was cold at best. Distant and uncaring towards you with two daughters, Cassandra and Raven, who never gave you the time of day. But your father cared. But sometimes life was just too much.

The day your father died was the day the light truly left your world. Kindness. How could the world be so cruel to a family that only showed the best to everyone around them? Your stepmother grew cold and mean, your step sisters even crueler. You became the maid for the house. You cooked and cleaned and did the laundry.

The attic became your home. But even after it all, you could never forget your mothers words. So even when it was hard, you smiled. For it was all you could do.

The clock tower wakes you up just like it does every morning. The sun shines through the window and you sit up. You sigh as you try and hold on to the wisps of your dreams. It was of your mother this time. You loved those dreams. But there was no time to dilly dally. Getting up you open the window to let the fresh air in. A few little robins land on the window sill.

"Hello little ones, it's a lovely morning isn't it." You reach down into the small sack of bird seed and place a some in front of their feet. You hold out your finger and one of them hops onto it.

"Time to start another day," You hum.

Once they had eaten you watch them fly away, a part of you wishing you could join them. Wondering what it was like to be free. But there was no time to wonder. You did your chores like clockwork. Making the morning tea and breakfast for your step mother and sisters. Gather their laundry, feed the animals, tend to the garden.

"Hello mister, what are you doing here?" As you pulled fresh carrots from the ground you found a little field mouse hiding between the greens.

"Are you hungry?" You don't reach out, not wanting to scare him.

His big eyes looked up at you and his nose twitched. Sometimes you wondered if they could understand you, your animal friends were lovely company. Reaching into your pocket you pull out some left over chicken feed.

"I know it's not much but I hope it will do." The mouse gathers it in his little paws and scurries away. You smile as you bring back the veggies.

"Perhaps we'll do soup for dinner, how does that sound?" You ask Bruno the family dog who was sitting at your feet.

He lets out a low huff and you chuckle. A loud ring echoes through the kitchen. The bell on the wall signals you were needed at the front door. You hurried up the stairs to the door.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" The man wordlessly hands you a letter and leaves.

You turn the letter over in your hands. You could just tell this was no ordinary letter. The envelope was cream colored with beautiful gold lettering. On the back rested a solid red wax seal with the royal crest pressed into it. At once you hurried to the study where your sisters were practicing music. You weren't supposed to interrupt but this was a letter from the castle. You cautiously open the door and three sets of eyes rest on you.

"Ma'am I'm sorry to-"

"What have I told you about interrupting us? You insolent child." Your step mother berates. You hold out the letter and lower your head.

"I know but a letter from the castle came and-" Once again your cut off as your step mother rips the letter from your hands. Your step sisters squealed so loud you swore the glass would break.

"A ball is to be held for all the the eligible maidens of the Kingdom." Your step mother announces to your step sisters. Cassandra grabs the letter from her mother and continues to read.

"The prince will take a wife!" Raven rips it from her sisters hands.

"The ball is to be held in two weeks! That's not enough time, we need new dresses and make up." The two girls are sent into frenzy at the news.

Meanwhile you were still processing the news. All the eligible maidens, well that meant you too! Oh your mother used to tell stories of going to balls. Dressing up and dancing to the music.

"Go to the village at once! Place an order with the seamstress for three dresses. And get the girls whatever they need." Your step mother commands and hands you the money. Your step sisters were busy writing down all the things they needed.

"Three dresses Ma'am?" She stops and looks at you in confusion.

"Yes three, for me and your sisters obviously."

"But the invitation says all eligible maidens...may...go." Your voice trails off as the three of them stare at you.

A moment of silence passes before all three of them burst out in laughter. You want nothing more than to disappear. Shame creeping up as they laugh like the idea of you going anywhere was just so amusing.

"You? Go to the ball in those rags?" Raven cackles. You smooth down your dress, trying to get rid of the wrinkles.

"What prince would ever want a peasant girl for a wife?" Cassandra adds on.

"Girls please, it's not her fault she's so...imaginative." Your step mother walks up to you. You feel so small under her gaze.

"Look at you, be serious. You are not worthy of a prince my dear." You feel tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall in front of them.

"I just want to go to the ball, What if I made my own dress?" You ask quietly. Your step mother thinks for a moment before a smirk crosses her face.

"Perhaps if you find your own dress and finish all the chores, you can go." Protests erupt from your step sisters but one look quiets them down. She takes their list and hands it to you.

"Now run along now, only the best for me and my girls." Without another word you turn on your heel and leave.

Your step mothers words replay over and over in your head. Worthy of a prince, you don't care about the prince. All you want is one night away, to enjoy yourself and forget about the hardships. The fabric for a dress would cost a pretty penny that you don't have. Not to mention the chores. But it wasn't impossible.

There's a dress hidden in the attic, it was your mothers. It wasn't anything impressive but it was a dress and it held a lot of special memories. The town was bustling with excitement from the news. The castle hasn't held a ball in years, ever since the Queen had passed unexpectedly one night the King had shut the doors of the castle. No one had even seen the prince. They knew not his face, only a name. James.

"Hello Eden, It's lovely to see you again." You greet the town seamstress with a smile.

"I assume you've gotten a plethora of orders since the announcement." Eden was the best seamstress in a hundred miles of here. She was older but her skills never wavered. She used to patch up your dresses when you came with your mother.

"Yes my dear, thank goodness for my daughters or I'd never finish it all in time."

"I'm afraid I'm here to add to your list. My step mother wishes to order three dresses for the ball." You hand Eden the money and she sighs. Your family was not easy clients. Always nitpicking her work and treating her like dirt.

"Only three?" You smile sadly as she adds the order to her stack.

"It's alright, I have an old dress of my mothers somewhere. It just needs to be fixed up and It's ready to go." Eden smiles softly and places her hands on top of yours.

She was always kind to you since your parents passed. She was like the grandmother you never had. "Here my dear, perhaps you can use some of these." She reaches down beneath the counter and hands you a box filled with scrap fabric and some jewels.

"Oh Eden thank you, this is perfect." You take the items and place them in your satchel.

You leave Eden's and begin on the list of things your step sisters have asked for. You bounced from shop to shop buying all of their strange requests. Your bag grew heavy as the sun moved through the sky.

"Hey! Get back here!" You turn your head to see the baker yelling at a little girl. She was dressed in rags, dirt on her face with a loaf of bread in her hands. He has her by her wrist and she was trying to get free. Without thinking you storm over.

"You little brat! I'll show you what happens to thieves like you!" The baker hisses and before he can do anything else you get between them.

"Stop that! She's a child!"

"She's a thief." His grip tightens on her little wrist and you feel yourself growing angry.

"She's hungry, can't you spare her some kindness." You plead.

While the baker is distracted the little girl bites his hand making him yelp in pain. He lets go of her and she runs away. With the girl gone the baker's anger turns to you.

"You stupid girl! You owe me for that bread and more. I hope that little girl was worth it!" You don't have any money left and the baker was growing more and more upset.

"I don't have the money sir but I can pay you back tomorrow." You tell him but he doesn't like that answer. You gasp as he grabs your arm tightly.

"You aren't leaving until that bread is paid for!" Before you can say anything else a large hand grabs the bakers.

You look to the side and see a man glaring at the baker. You don't recognize him but from the looks of his clothes he was most likely a nobleman visiting.

"Unhand the lady immediately." His voice is stern as the baker does what he says.

"That girl cost me a loaf of bread!" The man steps between the two of you, almost like he's acting as a guard.

"So? Are you that desperate for money that you can't spare a loaf of bread for a needy child?" The man asks.

The baker begins to stutter but the stranger seems to not care at all. The stranger relishing him to a nervous mess. You wonder just who this man was.

"You're embarrassing yourself sir, I would go back to your shop if I were you." The baker does as told, mumbling to himself as he retreats back into his shop. The man suddenly turns to you.

"Are you alright?" He stands so tall as he looks down at your arm. The man before you was unlike anyone you've seen. A handsome face but a stern aura. His clothes were woven with intricate detail and he was well kept.

"Yes, thank you sir." You bow your head to the man in thanks.

"That man was out of line, you were only trying to help." He states. You grew nervous under his intense eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a pair of eyes watching you. It was the little girl, she quickly ducks behind a wall and you follow her. The man following you.

"Hello sweetheart, It's okay I won't hurt you." You say gently as you kneel down. She looks at you and then at the man with cautious eyes. You reach into your bag and pull out a few apples you had bought for a pie.

"Here, take them." She quickly grabs them from your hands and hides them away.

"Thank you." She says quietly.

"What's your name?" The man asks, he kneels down just like you. For some reason she doesn't seem afraid of him.

"Laura."

"That's a pretty name, where do you live?" He offers her a kind smile and she seems to relax a little bit.

"The orphanage." She replies.

Your heart breaks as you watch her small figure devour one of the apples. The orphanage was filled with too many kids and not enough money to help. The kids were often left starving and lonely. She must have snuck out to get food.

"Want to go back." She looks at the two of you and you reach out your hand.

"Come along then." Her tiny hand fits in yours as you walk her back to the orphanage.

The man comes with the two of you, his presence enough to deter any stares or rude comments. When you bring her to the front gates she rushes into the yard, pulling out the bread and breaking it apart to give to the other children. She looks back at the two of you and waves.

"That was a very kind thing you did back there." The man says, watching Laura with a frown.

"I just wanted to help her." You adjust the bag on your shoulder, its heavy weight taking a toll.

"Allow me." Before you can protest the man takes your bag and effortlessly puts it on his own shoulder.

"Oh it's okay sir, the walk back is far and I don't want to burden you." You try and reach for the bag but he doesn't let you.

"I don't mind. I would like to walk you back if that's alright with you. A gesture of kindness for earlier." You want to accept but you're hesitant, you don't even know who this man is. But he seems kind and you could use the help. It's been a long time since a stranger has shown you such kindness.

"Okay, but before you go I must ask your name." He begins to speak but stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

"Logan, my name is Logan."

"Are you from here Logan? Or are you only here for the ball?" "I grew up here." His answers are short but you don't mind. It's nice being able to talk to someone who doesn't stand on four legs.

"Are all these things for the ball, a little excessive don't you think?" He's very straightforward but you appreciate that.

"It's not for me, it's for my step sisters. They wanted all new make up and a new dress and anything they could think of." Logan chuckles and looks fondly at you.

"I don't understand the appeal of a ball to be honest, it seems like a place for obnoxious people to be around other obnoxious people." Logan states plainly.

"Perhaps, but for people like me it's exciting. My mother used to love to dress up and this is my chance to do the same."

"Used to?" Logan asks, his gaze softening as he notices your eyes flicker with sadness.

"She passed some time ago." You say sadly.

"My apologies." He looks at you and then looks forward at the path.

"My mother passed too."

"Oh Logan I'm so sorry." You place your hand on his arm in a moment of comfort.

"It’s okay, that’s just how life goes sometimes.” You wanted the talk to last forever.

But far too soon you reached the edge of town. You didn’t want him to know where you lived, if he walked you all the way back your stepmother might see him. It's better to keep him away from your mess.

“This is good. I can walk the rest of the way.” You tell him. He frowns as you stop dead in your tracks.

“Are you certain?” He asks in a confused tone.

“Yes, thank you so much Logan but I really must be going.” You take the bag and hurry off, leaving him standing alone in the road.

You were scolded for returning so late but you could care less. You had a dress to make. For the next two weeks every spare moment you had was dedicated to fixing your mothers dress. The spare fabric was perfect to patch up holes and add a satin neckline while the jewels made the whole dress shine. You powered through the chores and the lack of sleep for this.

Every now and again your thoughts would drift to Logan. Wondering if you’d see him at the ball, if you could get to dance with the man who came to your rescue. He was a very handsome man that you couldn’t deny. Would he even be interested in dancing with you? Would he care that you were nothing more than a peasant girl? He might take one look at you at home and run for the hills. But a girl can dream can’t she.

The day of the ball you were buzzing with excitement. Your chores were all done and all that’s left was to get ready. You hear the stomping of the horses outside and you hurried down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your step mother asks. Eyeing your dress with a disgusted look. The smile on your face drops.

“I finished my chores and I have a dress…you said I could go if I did all those things.”

“You call that a dress?” Raven scoffs. She circles you like a predator.

“This is nothing but a disaster. Imagine you dancing with the prince. Tripping over your own two feet and then oops,” She grabs a piece of your dress and rips it apart.

“Stop!” You cry as you try and grab the piece in her hand. Cassandra grabs the newly sewn neckline and rips it off.

“See? Nothing but a cheap imitation of real class.” You beg them to stop as they tear apart your dress.

Your mothers dress. All your hard work, your hope was gone. Tears stream down your face as you grab the scraps from their hands.

“Oh dear, it appears you don’t have a dress anymore. What a shame. Come along girls.” You watch through blurry vision as they leave.

Cackling with joy as they board the carriage. You don’t understand. Why do they hate you so much? What did you ever do to you? You’ve tried your whole life to be kind, to make your mother proud but it feels like the world is punishing you for it.

Your mother is gone. Your father is gone. The only family, if you can even call them that, hates you. They treat you like dirt. You race through the house. Running to the backyard and collapsing onto the ground. You sob into the scraps of fabric as you mourn the life you’ve missed. The hurt bubbling to the service.

“I’m sorry mother, I can’t do this anymore. I’m trying to be like you but I just can’t.”

“My dear, please don’t cry.” You scream as an unfamiliar voice speaks into your ear. You scramble back as a man in a red mask and a poofy white dress stands before you.

“W-Who are you?” You ask in disbelief.

“Well I’m Wade, your fairy godmother of course!” He says happily, pulling out a wand and sending sparks into the air. You watch in awe as the color bursts into the air.

“My what?”

“Fairy godmother! Corset and all sweetheart. My organs are all touching.” He whispers that last part to you.

“I don’t understand, You can do magic?”

“Uh, the magic wand here isn’t just for show.” He says while waving it around. A burst of magic shoots from the tip accidently and goes right through the attic window. He makes a noise and looks back at you.

“Whoopsie. Still working out the kinks.” He says while slamming the wand against his hand. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Anyways, It is my job to get you to the ball and to get you to the hot prince who’s waiting for you.” He leans in and nudges your shoulder.

“You’ll have to tell me if he really does have hair, everywhere.” You squeak at the implication and Wade just skips off. He points his wand at the pumpkin patch.

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” He says excitedly. He speaks the magic words and before your very eyes a pumpkin grows and grows until he becomes a carriage. You gasp in amazement. Rushing over admiring the gorgeous white carriage.

“Okay now we need some horses!” Wade looks around the garden and sees a few field mice watching in the grass.

“Okay I haven’t done mice yet but what could go wrong right?” He shoots his magic at the mice and misses, causing a carrot to crawl out of the ground and run away.

“Will you just stay still! The cartoon mice were much more cooperative.” It takes him a few tries but he eventually gets them all.

Four beautiful stallions at the front of your carriage. A goose sitting by the fountain finds himself victim to Wade’s magic. Becoming a footman in an instant.

“Now we need to fix. All of this.” He gestures to your dress.

"Yeesh, would not say yes to this dress.” He mumbles as he starts to wave his wand.

“Oh! Please be gentle with this. It was my mothers.” You ask. You don’t want a full replacement. Just a little touch up.

“Don’t worry. I know what to do!” He cracks his knuckles and neck.

“Okay, maximum effort.” Magic surrounds you as you feel the dress change.

Your jaw drops as the torn rags turn into a beautiful blue ball gown. It was the prettiest dress you had ever seen. The way it swished and sparkled in the moonlight. It was beyond your wildest dreams. You lift your dress only to find crystal glass slippers adorned on your feet.

“I never understood glass slippers. As if heels weren’t hard enough to walk in. Trust me. These are killing me.” He lifts his own dress to show you heels taller than you’ve ever seen.

“It makes my butt look amazing though.” You laugh as you twirl around.

“Oh thank you Wade. How can I ever repay you for this?”

“Aw don’t worry child, You deserve this.” He pats your head and takes your hand, helping you into the carriage.

“First things first, I will hide your identity to your family for plot convenience so they won’t recognize you.” He taps his wand on your cheek and you wince as it pokes your skin.

“Second, to keep things interesting, this only lasts until midnight. Once the clock strikes 12 everything will revert back to the way it was. Except for the glass slippers. For some reason.” You nod, you don’t need this to last forever. This was enough. Just one night was enough.

“Thank you Wade. For everything.” You lean over and kiss his cheek.

“Awe, you really know how to make a guy blush. Now hurry! You don’t have much time. Mush horsies mush!” The horses take off and you watch Wade disappear in the distance.

You can barely contain your joy as you head to the castle. You couldn’t stop touching the dress or the plush seats of the carriage. It was unbelievable. A part of you was afraid if you blinked it would all go away or that this was just a dream and you were still back home. But as you near the castle it feels all too real. As you reach the steps of the castle your footman helps you out onto the ground. You turn and curtsy to the horses and to your footman.

“Thank you all.” Your heels clack on the marble stairs as you race up to the grand hall.

You’re awestruck at the beauty of the castle. Before the ballroom you stop in front of a large portrait of who you assume to be the royal family. The King sits regal as ever with the Queen standing by his side. A kind smile on her face as her hands rest on the Prince’s shoulder. The prince is only a child but you see he had his mothers hazel eyes. You bow to the portrait and then move to the ballroom.

The doors open and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you. A hush falls over the crowd as you walk up to the balcony. You see the King sitting at the front of the room, bowing in respect. You effortlessly glide down the stairs to the main floor. Whispers are shared throughout the guests but you pay them no mind. You were truly here. The music starts up again and the party slowly goes back to normal. You weaved your way through the crowd. Sneaking a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert table. It was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted.

“That was quite an entrance.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around, your dress moving with you.

“Logan! You came.” You say with a smile. You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. He’s dressed in white with accents of blue. His clothes are crisp and fitted perfectly.

“I thought you didn’t care for these.” He shrugs and looks around the room.

“I don’t, but I was hoping to find a familiar face.” Your breath catches in your throat as he reaches up and wipes chocolate from your lips. A half smile on his lips.

“I love chocolate too,” He says with an amused look.

“You know I never caught your name.” He remarks and you smile.

“You never asked.” You reply. Logan raises an eyebrow but chuckles at your response. The music dies down as the song comes to an end.

“Dance with me.” He holds out his hand but you shake your head.

“Oh I don’t dance Logan.”

“You can’t come to a ball and not dance love.” Your heart flutters at the pet name. It just sounds so sweet coming from him.

“The last time I danced I was a little girl standing on my fathers toes.” You admit shyly. Logan hums and tilts your chin up with his hand. The distance between the two of you closing in.

“Just trust me my love, I won’t let you fall.” He takes your hand and you follow him. He glances at the band and subtly nods his head. They start to play a new song as Logan positions your hands.

“Don’t look at anyone else but me.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re horribly nervous as the music starts. Just don’t step on his toes and you’ll be fine. Your feet move clumsily at first but with an encouraging smile from Logan you find your footing. The two of you glide across the ballroom. Capturing the attention of everyone in the room. You barely even noticed as you found yourself getting lost in his hazel eyes.

True to his word he never lets you fall. You don’t know how you’re dancing like this but you don't care. The two of you dance like you’ve been partners for years. Matching each other's movements effortlessly.

“You’re a natural my love.” He says with a grin.

“Only because I have you.” You say with a smile.

Happiness threatens to burst through your heart as the music comes to an end. Applause fills the room but you only pay attention to Logan. More couples join the dance floor as the music starts back up but you and Logan stay still in the middle of the dance floor.

“Prince James!” You hear a voice call. You pay no mind but Logan seems to tense.

“It’s far too crowded here, let's go somewhere quieter.” He takes your hand and guides you through the room. Weaving between people until you’re out of the grand ballroom.

“Logan, are we supposed to be here?” You ask worriedly.

“Don’t worry, trust me.” He says with a wink.

You admire the portraits and paintings on the wall. Logan brings you through the castle until you find yourself outside in the royal gardens. Colorful flowers fill the courtyard along with a marble fountain. You can’t help yourself as you admire every plant and flower.

Logan watched you with a smile on his face. You really are something special. But there's something he needs to confess. He wishes he didn’t have to but he cannot hide it any longer.

“My love, there’s something I need to tell you.” He says cautiously.

“Yes Logan?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about my identity. The truth is…” He trails off. Unsure of how to tell you.

“You’re the crowned Prince. Aren’t you?” There’s no anger in your voice. Only amusement. Logan’s jaw falls as he tries to gather his words.

“Did you know the moment we met?” He asks in disbelief. You shake your head, eyes turning back to the roses in the garden.

“I didn’t know until right now. Well a couple minutes ago. You led me through the castle without a second thought, you’re wearing the royal crest, and there are paintings of you and your family in every hall of the castle.” You explain with a giggle. Logan groans, of course you’d notice all of that.

“But most of all, you have your mothers eyes.” You reach up and cup his face, staring into those enchanting hazel eyes.

“Are you not angry with me for lying about my true identity?”

“No my prince, I understand why you did so. It must be so hard sometimes. So lonely.” He sighs and covers your hand with his.

“It can be yes, no siblings and a father who has shut you out since your mother passed.”

Logan’s life wasn't what all his subjects thought it to be. Perhaps when he was a child it was. His father was a cold man. Only caring about ruling his kingdom and nothing more. The only time he would talk to Logan was to berate him or remind him of his future responsibilities. No rough housing, no crying, no coddling. He will be the future king which means he must act like it.

It didn’t matter that he was only a child. His mother was much kinder. She stayed with him when he was sick or when he had a nightmare. She taught him everything he knows. Gardening, cooking, reading, dancing. All his mother. She would tell him stories of brave soldiers who slayed dragons and tales of prince’s meeting their princesses.

When she died, he was only a teenager. His father who was already a cold man grew even colder. His heart was frozen by the loss of his wife. Since then Logan had to become the model King his father wished him to be. Locked in the castle walls with no one. It didn’t take long for him to learn how to sneak out from under his fathers rule. He swore one day he’d leave and never look back. But that day never came.

The day his father got sick. He knows what’s coming. There’s no doctor in the world who can cure what his father has. It’s why his father planned the whole ball. Logan was to become King soon and he needed a wife. But this wasn’t how Logan wanted things to go. He doesn’t want to marry out of obligation. But despite being the prince, he’s utterly helpless.

“I’m so sorry, my prince.”

“Logan, please call me Logan.” He begs, he’s not your prince out here. Not when it’s just the two of you. You nod and he leads you through the gardens.

“Why Logan? We were told the Prince’s name was James.” You ask.

“James is my fathers name. But my mother gave me the name Logan. I prefer it to my given name.” Logan explains, his hand reaching down to pluck a white rose from one of the bushes. He carefully picks the thorns off the stem and holds it out to you.

“A pretty flower for a beautiful woman.” You bite your lip as he gently places the flower into your hair.

“Perfect.” He whispers. The falling vines shield you from the prying eyes of the walkway.

“Logan, aren’t you supposed to find a wife tonight?” You ask and his face hardens.

“My fathers idea. He wants me to be married for the good of the kingdom.” Logan huffs as he rolls his eyes.

“It doesn't matter what I wish for myself.”

“What do you wish for?” He looks at you with a look you can’t quite place. His hands cup your face and he brings himself closer to you.

“I want to marry for love, to find someone who cares for me and not just my title.”

“I see,” You squeak out. Your heart pounds in your chest as Logan edges ever closer. His gloved hands hold your face with such care. His lips just ghosting over yours.

“I believe I’ve found it.” He mumbles. Your eyes flutter closed as Logan closes the gap. You can barely feel his lips when the clock tower chimes through the courtyard. You gasp as you look at the time.

Midnight. You have to leave.

“Logan I, I’m sorry.” You turn and run as fast as you can. Through the garden back into the castle to the front doors.

“Wait, please don’t leave!” Logan calls after you. He’s running after you with all his might.

The carriage is waiting for you at the foot of the steps. You rush carelessly down the stairs. You feel your shoe fly off and you stop to grab it but Logan is close behind you. You can’t risk it. Before you can get into your carriage you hear him call for you again.

“Your name, I never got your name.” You turn back to see him on the steps.

He’s silently begging you not to leave. You almost tell him, almost. But reality has come crashing down on you. He’s the prince. He must marry someone important. Someone who can become queen one day. Someone who isn’t you.

“I’m sorry Logan.” You jump in the carriage and before Logan can do anything you’re off.

Logan bends down and picks up the glass shoe. He kicks himself for never asking your name. From the moment he saw you he felt a connection. You didn’t know who he was but you were so nice. Protecting that little girl without a second thought. Logan is normally a stoic man but you were easy to talk to. He wanted to talk to you.

The doors open as the guests start to file out. He feels a hand grab his arm and drag him back into the castle where his angry father awaits him.

“James! Where on earth did you go?! Do you know what a ruckuss you caused? Dancing with a mystery woman just to disappear for the rest of the night?!” His father yells but Logan could care less.

“She is my future wife. I know it. You wished for me to marry well I found a wife.”

“Well where is she?” His father asks. Logan looks down at the slipper and then back to his father.

“She ran. But I will find her. That’s a promise.” He says but his father just sighs. 

“Son. Why can’t you just pick someone else? Princess Jean from the Grey family of the neighboring kingdom is interested and your marriage would be great for both our kingdoms.” His father says like its a matter of fact. Knowing his father Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he had already agreed to the marriage without even speaking to him.

“Because I love her father!” Logan roars. He is sick of being controlled by his father. He will rule the kingdom. He will be king one day and he will do it his way.

“Love doesn’t matter! Look what love got you son. She left you. She’s gone.” His father shouts.

“How could you say that? Did mother mean nothing to you? Did you not love her?!” Logan challenges. His eyes burn with intensity as he marches right up to his father. Logan’s chest heaves as his father sinks into his throne.

“Your mother was the love of my life.” He starts.

“But she died. My love could not heal her and now she’s gone. Please, I am doing this for your own good.” King James pleads. For the first time in the last 20 years Logan saw a hint of vulnerability break through his fathers hard shell.

“I love her. It may end in heartbreak, she may not want me. But all I know is I love her. Give me one week to find her. That’s all I ask. One week and if I fail then I will marry Princess Jean.” Logan drops to his knees.

His one last desperate effort to appeal to his father. His mother would want him to marry for love and he’s found it. He can’t give up on it now.

“Deal. One week James.”

True to what Wade had said, everything turned back to normal. Your dress, the carriage, the horses, and the footman. The gooses waddled by your side as the mice sat inside of your glass shoe as you walked back to your house. That night was something out of your wildest dreams.

Dancing with the prince, with Logan. The smile wouldn’t leave your face. How could it? You hummed the song that was playing as you danced to yourself. It didn’t matter how much your feet hurt, you were happy. The glass slipper sparkled in the moonlight.

You’re glad you have something to remember the night by, to prove it wasn’t just a dream. After letting the mice free you ran back to your room, just as you heard the carriage pull up. Prying the loose floorboard up you place the shoe gently inside, a keepsake you’ll hold dear forever.

The next morning you went back to your old life, being treated like dirt once again but it was okay. For when you had the chance you would daydream of the night before. Your sisters would not stop talking about the ball. Angry that they never got to speak to the prince and that some mystery woman stole him away. They’ll never know that was you. That the prince had chosen you to spend his night with.

No matter how cruel your family was, how much work they gave you, you were still happy. News had traveled quickly that the prince was looking for the mystery girl, a single glass shoe his only way of finding her. Your step mother had alerted your sisters this morning. A week to find his true love, how romantic.

You tried to balance your feelings. Could he really find you all the way out here? Would he even look past the town? He didn’t even know your name. What if he saw the true nature of your life, that you were not the woman he thought you were? What if he thought you were a princess or a noblewoman? That day in the town you had spent a lot of coins. Would he want you as just a peasant maid girl?

”I expect the house to be spotless for the prince’s visit.” Your step mother demands.

Not a single speck of dirt is allowed. You worked tirelessly day and night. Even when your step sisters would spill something on purpose or tip over your water bucket, you managed to get it done. The prince was to travel to the outskirts of the town by mid afternoon. You were absolutely exhausted. You trudged up the stairs to your room. To your shock your step mother was sitting on your bed, your glass slipper dangling from her finger.

“Where did you find that?” Your voice quivering with fear. You hid that away, you only brought it out in the dead of night. How could she have found it?

“Do you think me a fool, my dear?” Her voice is cold, void of any emotion as she swings the slipper back and forth.

“Please don’t!” You reach forward but she pulls it back. Your steps falter, her stare grounding you to the spot you’re standing in.

“It’s fragile.” You whisper.

“You really are dreadful at keeping secrets. Humming a tune, swaying to the imaginary music when you think no one is looking. And this.” She holds out the slipper.

“The mystery girl at the ball had shoes made of crystal, my dear. I wonder just how fragile it really is.”

“Please, I don’t want anything from you. I've done the chores I’ve kept quiet…” Your step mother stands up and marches over to you. She leers down at you in utter discontent.

“Silence! You insolent girl. You have ruined everything! I knew I should have thrown you out the minute your father died. All he cared about was you, I was his wife but he gave you all his attention. Probably because he was still in love with that wretched woman.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that! You know nothing of who she was. She was kind, strong and loving. Everything you aren’t!” You shout back.

Your step mothers faced into shock and then to anger. But you couldn’t stop, once the gates had been opened it’s all flooding out.

“Why are you so cruel to me? What could I possibly have done to you? I was a child! A child who had lost both her parents and you couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy. Not one.” You fall to your knees, years of built up emotions flooding out of you. You wince as your stepmother grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” She snarled.

“You are nothing but a worthless little girl and you will never be anything more than that. Do you understand me?” Her eyes are burning with rage. She tightens her grip on the heel of your slipper. Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s going to do.

“No!” You scream as she slams the slipper to the ground.

It shatters into pieces before your eyes. Scattering across your floor. You sob as you grab at the pieces you can still hold. You look up at your step mother with tearful eyes.

For a second, perhaps it is your imagination, you see a flicker of regret. But it disappears just as quickly as it came. The sound of horses comes rumbling in the distance. Your stepmother walks past you. The heel of the slipper is still in her hands.

“Make a sound and you’ll never step foot outside again.” She slams your door shut and you hear the click of the lock.

You cry and cry your heart out. Holding the broken pieces of crystal to your chest. The one happy moment in your heart has been shattered just like everything else. Why couldn’t they just let you be happy for once? You spent your whole life trying to live through kindness and you thought that maybe the world would show you a little too.

But it’s done the worst thing. It gave you a sliver of hope, a sliver of happiness and then it crushed it. Crushed it until there’s nothing left.

Maybe this is just the life you’re meant to have, perhaps the happiness wasn’t meant to be. Logan was too good to be true, he’ll find a new wife after this week. He’ll become King and forget all about you. Even when he’ll be all you dream about for the rest of your life.

You gently place the broken pieces on top of a piece of fabric, bundling them up and placing them under your bed. The tears have slowly stopped falling. You rest your arms on the window sill. A light breeze comes through to dry your tears. You stare at the castle in the distance.

Replaying the night over in your head in hopes that it brings you some peace. 

“Hello Prince James.” Logan stands at the door of the house. Your stepmother and stepsisters bow in his presence.

“These are my daughters Cassandra and Raven.” Logan nods as the two girls eye him shamelessly.

“Let's get this over with.” Logan mumbles to the guards who were standing beside him.

He’s searched through the whole kingdom. Today marks a week since that night of the ball. Today was his last chance to find you and he’s almost given up hope. The shoe hasn’t fit anyone, he knows if he sees you he won’t even need the shoe but it was a way to make sure in his fathers eyes.

“My aren’t you handsome.” Raven purrs, reaching out to touch his chest. He steps back and lets the guards step in front of him. Holding the shoe out to Raven. Raven sits down and holds out her foot. The guard tries to put the shoe on but it’s too small.

“Must have shrunk since last week.” Raven says with gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t fit Raven, now move over.” Cassandra pulls her sister out of the chair and sits down instead.

Gloating at the way Raven pouts. Once again the shoe is placed on Cassandra’s foot and once again it doesn’t fit. Logan holds back the urge to roll his eyes as Cassandra tries to fit her foot in through force.

“Thank you for your time.” He starts to leave but he’s stopped by your stepmother.

“Wait! My prince, I promise you the shoe belongs to one of my daughters.” She pulls the heel of the slipper out of her pocket. Logan’s eyes widen as he sees the familiar glass slipper.

“Where did you find this?” He demands.

“As I said before, it belongs to one of my daughters.” Logan doesn’t believe her for a second. He knows who he danced with and it wasn’t the two girls standing before him.

“My prince, listen!” One of the guards says. Your stepmother opens her mouth to protest but one look from Logan silences her. His ears strain to hear what the guard was talking about. There’s nothing but silence at first, but then he hears it. A soft hum of a familiar song. He knows that song, that’s the song he danced to at the ball.

“Where is she?” He growls, his polite front dropping in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no one else here.” Your stepmother tries to argue but Logan pushes past her.

Running up the stairs to the attic. Stopping every now and then to hear you sing. At the very top of the stairs sits an old wooden door. Without thinking he slams his shoulder into it. The wood shakes and creaks under his force.

“Logan?” You ask in disbelief, your voice muffled through the wall.

“Stand back!” Logan says before ramming his shoulder against the door again. It splinters with ease. You stare in shock as Logan stands before you.

“It’s you.” He says breathlessly, uncaring of the dust and grime that now stains his perfect suit.

“You found me.” You whisper.

“I haven't stopped looking for you since the ball.” Logan walks over to you, striding across the room in need. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you close.

“I have fallen madly in love with you.” He confesses.

You reach up and wrap your hands in his hair, pulling him in for the kiss you didn’t get to have in the gardens. His hands squeeze your waist softly as he groans into the kiss. You’re both desperate and passionate. Trying to speak a thousand words with only your lips.

“Do I finally get to know your name?” He asks with amusement. A smile on his face as he cups your face. You laugh and tell him. He repeats you, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“What a perfect name.” He hums, his thumb brushing your cheek softly. Logan takes a step back and drops to one knee, pulling out a gorgeous ring from his pocket.

“Marry me my love.” He holds out the ring and you feel your heart jump.

“Of course I will.” You cry. He places the ring on your finger and spins you around. You laugh with pure joy as he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Your stepmother is an awful woman.” He mumbles, if he could he’d kick them out of his kingdom for treating you like this. Locking you away like a prisoner in your own home.

The two of you hand in hand head back downstairs. All eyes are on you as Logan leads you through your house. The house that was once filled with happy memories of your parents, now tainted by years of abuse and cruelty from your stepmother. Logan stands at your side, blocking their view of you as you walk out the door.

“Wait! Please you can’t just leave us. I won’t allow it!” Your stepmother hisses as she follows you out the door.

The guards step forward but you call them off. Logan looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure and you nod. Reluctantly he lets go of your hand, letting you walk up to your step mother. You hold your head high, a feeling of complete freedom.

“You don’t control me anymore.” You stand tall, watching as your stepmother's face morphs through different emotions. Your whole body is shaking. But she can’t hurt you anymore, she doesn’t get to destroy your life. Logan laces his hand with yours and gently pulls you back to the royal carriage.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks as he sees the tears in your eyes. He reaches up and brushes the stray tears away.

“Yes Logan, I’m perfect.” 

In an instant your life changed. Your wedding was a grand affair. The whole town was thrilled to have a new princess and the celebration was amazing. Logan was a model prince, using his power and status to help the town orphanage so that all the children could live happy and comfortable lives. He wasn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and work to help his kingdom.

After years of being locked away he was discovering what it meant to be free just like you were. The two of you were beloved. Praised for being kind, fair, and happy rulers. You spread kindness through everything the two of you did together. He’s everything to you and you are his whole world.

The view of the kingdom from your bedroom window was nothing short of breathtaking. You place birdseed on the window sill and a few birds fly up to the castle window. They chirp happily and you watch them with a smile on your face.

“What are you thinking about my love?” Logan asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His chin resting on your shoulder.

You look back at his handsome face, seeing the man you love with nothing but content on his face. He brought the light back into your life and it shines brighter than ever before. Then you look back at the kingdom, your kingdom. For once your heart does not ache watching from the window. Now you feel only love and peace.

“Nothing my prince, I’m just happy.” 

[gf2bellamy]

early seasons spence has me in a chokehold so i kinda have a request for you idk if it makes sense but yeah anyway (please dont tell me its obvious im a yapper ill cry)

ANYWHO

secret relationship au im imagining, earlyseasons!spencer x genderneutral/fem!bau!user (doesnt bother me but im trying to be considerate, im a girl but it really doesnt matter)

basically im thinking like the reader gets kidnapped on a case and spence is FREAKING OUT like lack of sleep, pacing constantly and being really set on finding the unsub freaking out.. and when he finally finds the reader in their state hes like that mix of relieved and absolutely appalled at the readers condition (im imagining all beaten and bloody and stuff idk how graphic you wanna make it). hes all ditsy when hes untying their binds and carrying them out of the place since hes so scared for them. the rest of the thing is kinda hotch calmly telling the reader how freaked out spence was and then im thinking like them comforting spencer afterwards and saying all the ‘its not your fault’ and ‘im okay now’ and its so fluffy it rots all our teeth (but i guess it would also be angst) IDK IF IT MAKES ANY SENSE IMSORRY

anyway remember to drink water and take care of yourself

call me some random emoji cause ill probably be here a bunch

- 🐚

captured — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader having bruises, reader being tied up, mention of having a terrible headache, a/n: thank you so so much for your request and your request makes perfect sense don't worry !! i loved the idea and i'm looking forward to your next requests 🐚 <3<3<3 i hope i did your request justice !!!

Spencer didn’t know where you were. No one did. That thought pounded through his skull, looping endlessly as he nursed what had to be his fifth coffee of the day. He hadn’t slept—not even a minute—and the caffeine barely registered.

The coffee tasted like ash, bitter and lifeless. Not that it mattered. All it was doing was keeping him on his feet long enough to find you.

He should have seen this coming. He should have known the unsub would target you. You fit the profile perfectly—he had pored over the details a hundred times, retracing every step the team had made.

And yet, when it mattered most, Spencer had let his guard down.

And now you were gone. Missing. Maybe worse.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. His guilt was unbearable.

But it wasn’t just guilt, wasn’t just worry for a teammate.

It was something deeper, something he wasn’t allowed to show, not in a room full of profilers.

Because this wasn’t just about an agent being taken.

This was about you.

The person he had been secretly slipping away with after hours and the person whose hand he had held in the darkness when no one was looking.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He should have stopped you. You should have never been the one to go on that stakeout alone, even if it was routine. Even if you’d assured him you’d be fine. The memory of your casual smile as you walked out the door stabbed at him like a knife.

“It’s just for a few hours, Spence,” you’d said with that soft lilt in your voice, the one you used when you were trying to put him at ease. The one that undid him every time.

He’d smiled back, pretending to believe you, but his stomach had tightened even then. He should have insisted on going with you.

And now—God, now—he didn’t know if he would ever hear that voice again.

It was a small mistake—one that was tearing him apart.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to let go, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. It was no use. He’d already memorized every detail, every piece of evidence. Nothing had led them to you yet.

But it would. It had to.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, exhaustion clawing at him. His entire body screamed for rest, but the idea of closing his eyes—even for a moment—felt impossible. His mind was too full of you.

The burning in his eyes was unbearable, but the ache in his chest was worse.

Everyone on the team was worried about you—how could they not be? But they were also worried about him. And they had every reason to be.

They thought his reaction was because the two of you were close, because he was the type to carry the weight of every case like a personal failure. But it was more than that.

He wasn’t just losing an agent. He was losing you.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the desk once more.

He stared at the evidence board in front of him, the faces of the victims haunting him as he tried to force his brain into profiling mode. But every time he looked at their photos, all he could see was you.

Your smile. Your eyes. The way you looked at him.

His chest tightened painfully, and he dug his fingers into the desk again.He needed to focus.

“Reid.”Hotch’s voice broke through his frantic thoughts.

Spencer’s head snapped toward the doorway where Hotch stood, his expression unreadable as always. “We’ve got a lead,” he said, stepping inside.“Where?” Spencer asked.

“An abandoned warehouse on 14th and Grant,” Hotch replied evenly, though the concern in his eyes was clear.

Spencer turned back to the board, his mind racing as he analyzed the new information. Within seconds, he made the connection. The location fit the unsub’s pattern, his profile—it was possible.

It was enough.

Spencer shot to his feet without another word, practically bolting out the door. The rest of the team exchanged quick glances before following him.

He didn’t care if he looked reckless. He didn’t care if they saw how desperate he was. He had wasted enough time already.

Derek barely had time to react before Spencer climbed into the passenger seat, his breathing uneven.

Derek glanced at him, concern flickering across his face as he started the engine. “Reid—”

“Just drive,” Spencer snapped.

Derek didn’t argue. He knew better.

The SUV tore through the streets, Derek driving faster than protocol allowed. But he didn’t care. He knew Spencer would bite his head off if he slowed down, and frankly, he couldn’t blame him.

Spencer’s knee bounced restlessly as his eyes darted to the GPS screen, counting down the seconds until they arrived.

The second the car came to a stop in front of the warehouse, Spencer threw open the door and bolted.

“Reid, wait!” Derek’s voice rang out behind him, but it was no use.

Spencer didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.

His pulse roared in his ears as he burst into the building, gun raised, breath ragged. His rational mind screamed at him to slow down, to wait for backup, to clear the scene carefully—standard protocol.

But protocol didn’t matter right now.

The dim lighting inside cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. The air was thick with dust and something metallic—rust, maybe blood. His stomach turned at the thought.

His grip on his gun tightened as he moved swiftly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Room after room, door after door—empty.

Panic coiled in his chest, squeezing tighter with each dead end. His mind flashed with worst-case scenarios.

He shoved them down. He couldn’t think like that.

Then, he reached the last door.

Spencer barely took a breath before forcing it open, gun at the ready.

And then—

His stomach dropped.

There you were.

His voice cracked as he called out your name, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed toward you, his gun immediately lowering as he took in your state.

His stomach twisted at the sight of you—unconscious, slumped forward, your wrists tightly bound to the arms of the chair. The dim lighting highlighted the bruises and cuts on your face, the sight of them sending a jolt of raw panic through him. For a brief, gut-wrenching moment, Spencer feared the worst.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they moved to your neck. His fingers pressed gently against your pulse point, but for what felt like an eternity, there was nothing.

His mind raced. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

Then—

There it was.

A faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Spencer’s lungs finally let him take a full breath. He leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as he whispered shakily, “Thank God. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

His hands moved to your face, cupping it gently as he tilted your head up to get a better look at you.

When your face came into full view, his breath hitched.

Bruises marred your cheekbone and temple, a thin line of dried blood trailing down from your hairline. Spencer’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might break. He bit his lip, trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some semblance of control

One single tear slipped down his cheek as he softly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as if he were handling glass.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

“Morgan!” Spencer’s voice cracked, raw with emotion, as he yelled.

Seconds later, Derek burst into the room, gun in hand, his face hard and alert. “Reid, I just cleared the—” But the moment his eyes landed on you, his words died in his throat.

Derek cursed under his breath, his gaze shifting between you and Spencer, before asking about your condition, his concern palpable as he rushed to Spencer’s side, holstering his gun.

“Alive,” Spencer barely managed to choke out the word, his voice trembling. “Pulse is steady, but we need to get out of here.”

Morgan nodded, his jaw tightening as he quickly pulled out his knife to cut through the ropes binding your wrists.

Spencer’s hands were already on you, one cradling the back of your head, the other resting gently on your arm. His thumb stroked soothing circles on your skin.

The motion was familiar, a small gesture he used to comfort you when you were restless after nightmares, when he needed to remind you—remind himself—that you were safe.

He hoped it would work now, that somehow, it would bring you back to him.

Morgan worked quickly, slicing through the restraints. As soon as your wrists were free, Spencer carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

His breath hitched as he whispered your name, lips near your ear. “It’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Your body felt so limp against him. He could barely feel his own limbs—his exhaustion was a distant thing compared to the need to keep you safe.

Derek’s voice broke through his daze, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

Spencer nodded. As he moved, one arm tightening protectively around you.

As they made their way outside, the sunlight hit Spencer’s face, but he barely noticed.

All he could focus on was you—the bruises and cuts that were on your skin, the way your body felt too light in his arms. His heart clenched at the thought of how much pain you must have endured, how much suffering had been thrust upon you, all because of the job.

He had promised you that he would protect you, that he would keep you safe. And now, he felt like he had failed you.

Two hours later, after one heated argument with the paramedics, Spencer had insisted on riding in the ambulance with you. He had refused to let you be alone, not for a second.

Now, you were lying in a sterile hospital bed, an IV drip hooked up to you, the soft beeping of machines a constant reminder that you were still here—still alive.

Spencer, on the other hand, was slumped in an uncomfortable plastic chair. His body contorted in a way that he knew he would regret later, but he didn’t care. His legs were stretched out, but his back was hunched, his neck bent at an awkward angle.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking as the bright overhead lights made everything blur. The room was unfamiliar—hospital white with the sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

The pain hit you almost immediately—sharp and unwelcome—making its way through your head and down your body. You winced, biting your lip to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.

The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the weight of everything that had happened.

The fear, the physical pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, it all crashed down on you like a tidal wave. But beneath it all, something else made itself known. The hum of machines, the soft beeping of your pulse, the sterile scent of the hospital room.

You slowly became aware that you were no longer in that dark, cold room, bound and at the mercy of the unsub. You were safe now.

And with that realization came relief.

You weren’t dead. You hadn’t been forgotten or abandoned. The unsub hadn’t fulfilled his plan.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall. You lifted your hand to your face, wiping them away quickly, but more kept coming. You couldn’t stop them.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw him.

Spencer.

He was there, slumped in the chair beside your bed. His exhaustion was unmistakable. His hair was messier than usual, not gelled back.

You sat there quietly observing the boy you had come to love so much.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you turned your head to see Hotch step in. His usual stern expression softened when his eyes met yours, and for the briefest of moments, you could see the relief in his gaze.

“Hi, Hotch,” you mumbled weakly, offering a small, tired smile.

Hotch stepped further into the room, taking in your condition. "How are you doing?" His voice was softer than usual, an underlying concern lacing his words as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"My head is killing me," you replied, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. Your hand instinctively went to your temple, massaging it gently, but it did little to alleviate the pain.

Hotch nodded understandingly. He glanced at Spencer briefly, noting the way he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Hotch’s eyes lingered on Spencer for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

It wouldn’t surprise you; Hotch was perceptive in ways no one else was, and your relationship with Spencer hadn’t exactly been subtle all the time.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. "We got him," Hotch said. "The unsub... he's in custody."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. The news felt like a balm to your soul.

You’d been terrified that the danger hadn’t truly passed, that the man who had done this to you would still be out there, free to hurt others. But now, you could finally breathe.

He was behind bars, where he belonged.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body finally relaxing a little, your tension ebbing away with the knowledge that the man behind your nightmare was locked away.

Hotch’s gaze softened, though his face remained stoic as always. “He was worried sick,” Hotch said, nodding toward Spencer. “He didn’t sleep. He was looking for you the entire time.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, your breath catching as you shifted your gaze from Hotch back to Spencer.

You could see the toll the search had taken on him. You fought the urge to reach for him, to run your fingers through his hair and wake him up just so you could see his face, to remind yourself that he was real, that he was here.

The face that had been your lifeline during the long days of captivity. It was that face, the one you’d thought of in the darkest moments, that had kept you sane.

Hotch seemed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Spencer, and for a moment, his usually unreadable face softened.

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he knew.

Spencer stirred slightly in his sleep, making a soft sound as he shifted. His body tensed before relaxing, the quiet movements of someone who was waking from exhaustion.

Hotch glanced down at Spencer, then back at you.He gave your arm a gentle squeeze—one that was light enough to not cause you any pain—and you looked at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Hotch said quietly. He gave you a small nod before stepping back.“Thanks, Hotch,” you mumbled, your voice still weak, but filled with genuine gratitude.

The door clicked softly behind him.As if on cue, Spencer slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light seemed to hurt him.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the relief, the exhaustion, the quiet joy of seeing you alive.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

His eyes searched your face, his expression tightening as he took in every little detail.

Spencer never liked to admit his feelings. He never said the words, but you felt them in the way his eyes lingered on you, in the way he never once left your side.

You knew what was hidden beneath the surface, even if the world didn’t.

"Hi," you mumbled back, trying to offer him a small, weak smile. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see just how badly you were hurting.

As you shifted to sit up a bit, the sharp pain in your head and limbs made itself known, and you couldn’t stop the soft groan that slipped from your lips.

Without a second thought, Spencer stood up from his seat, stepping closer to your bed, but he didn’t reach for you immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly. His eyes scanned over you—lingering on the bruises and cuts that were on your skin.

His breath caught in his throat as his gaze flickered from the fresh marks on your body to your face, and for a split second, it seemed like he couldn’t look at you without some part of him breaking.

"I’ll be fine," you said, your voice strained as you did your best to sound convincing, but the words didn’t do much to reassure him.

You could see it in the way he flinched, his hand immediately running through his hair—trying to distract himself from how visibly shaken he was by the sight of you in pain.

Spencer Reid, who always had an answer for everything, who always had control, was falling apart.

He leaned forward slightly, as if wanting to touch you but unsure if he should.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Spencer’s gaze remained on you, his body tense, and his hands flexed, still not knowing where to go. His lips parted again, as though to say something, but it came out only as a soft breath.

His fingers hovered near your arm but didn’t touch.

It was like he was afraid of hurting you more. You could see the guilt gnawing at him. It was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—" His words faltered, and he cut himself off.

"Spence," you said slowly, your voice soft but insistent. You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers curling around his gently.

His grip tightened around your hand, but it felt shaky. The words suddenly spilled out.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known. I should’ve known you could be in danger and I—” His voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat. His breath hitched, and it was clear he was trying to hold back tears.

But they came anyway, pooling in his eyes, spilling over and leaving tracks down his pale face.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—this was the man who had stayed by your side, refused to leave even when his mind told him he couldn’t handle it anymore.

The man who, despite everything, was still so gentle with you, so protective, and yet, here he was, blaming himself for things beyond his control.

"Spencer, stop," you said softly, your voice full of concern for him “Please, stop.”

His eyes remained downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I should have," he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

His voice trembled, breaking on the words. "I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure you were safe. You're hurt... you're in the hospital because of me."

Your heart broke all over again. He always did this to himself, carried the weight of everyone else’s pain as if it were his own.

"No, no," you whispered urgently, doing your best to push through the lingering pain in your head as you squeezed his hand tighter.

The effort sent a sharp pulse through your skull, but you forced yourself to focus, to hold on to him. "Spence, it wasn’t your fault. Don't ever think that," you said firmly, your voice filled with all the care and strength you had left.

"Listen to me," you continued, the words coming from the depths of your soul. "You did everything you could. You were there. You found me. You're the reason I'm alive, Spencer. If anyone should be sorry, it’s the man who did this to me, not you." Your words were soft.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his face contorting. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him together.

You took a slow, steady breath, forcing yourself to speak through the exhaustion. "You’re not the reason I’m here, Spence," you said, your voice full of the truth you wished he could feel deep inside himself. "You’re the reason I’m going to be okay. You always are."

Your words seemed to reach him, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely.

"Promise me something," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "Promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself. It’s not on you. It never was."

He nodded slowly, his hand tightening around yours in return.

“I promise,” he whispered, though it felt like he was still trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Come here," you said softly.

Without a second thought, Spencer leaned forward, his body folding into yours as he gently buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms sliding around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

His breath hitched as he adjusted, trying his best not to press too hard, too recklessly, worried about hurting you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When he finally pulled back, there was a small smile on his face that wasn’t there before.

You smiled gently, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering on his skin.

"I’m okay," you whispered, your voice tender, just for him. "I’m really okay, Spence."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer than usual, before pulling back with a contented sigh. "I’m so glad you’re here" he murmured.

You squeezed his hand tightly, smiling at him.

He pulled the chair closer to your bed, never letting go of your hand, settling into it with a deep breath. He was still physically exhausted, emotionally drained, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was that you were here.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[hamiltonaf]

hey pretty, hope u okay! if it's possible, could u write something for lewis? they have been best friends since 15 after meeting in karts (the reader is a Ferrari driver) lewis has been in love w her since the day they match, but never say something bc he is afraid of losting her. the reader got out of her last relationship and they became close again and one night they just get together and end up confessing their love to both of them. this can be a social media or not, what u prefer, thank u 🤍 (and sorry about the english, it's not my first language)

Icebreaker | Lewis Hamilton

{SOCIAL MEDIA AU}

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x BFF ! Reader

Warnings: None just major fluff

A/N: Hello my loves ! My first SMAU, I hope I did it justice. Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. Requests are open .xo

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc and 638 293 others

yourusername Summer break dump

View all 9,857 comments

user1 Forget about being a wag, I wanna be a HAB !!!!

user2 That boyfriend of hers has nooooo idea how lucky he is..

teamlh SIRRR we see you in the likes

user3 The fact that he liked this 1 min after posting… post notifications are ONNNN

user4 We NEED Lewis & Y/N content ASAPPPP

user5 Charles is 100% reading these comments

yourusername added to their story

yourusername deleted their story

lewishamilton

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lewishamilton For old times sake 😉 yourusername

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teamlh OH MY DAYS

user5 THEY WENT KARTING TOGETHER

user6 I’m not okay.

teamyourname besties reunited awwwww

yourusername I think you forgot to mention the part where I won 😌

lewishamilton Okay fine 😪

user7 I’m CRYING ^^ go QUEEENNNNN !!!! I love her sm 🥹🩷

yourusername

Liked by charlesleclerc, lewishmailton, fencer and 1 091 512 others

yourusername Best weekend yet 🤍 Finally faced my fears 🥹😭

View all 92 738 comments

lewishamilton So proud of you ❤️

yourusername All thanks to you 🥰

user1 Are they flirting on main ? 👀

lewhamilton He took her skydiving 😭😭😭 I’m not crying

lhamiltoncrew So are we just going to ignore the sneaky last pic that Y/N posted ??????? 🥹 SO CUTE

fansofyourname Its been a while since we saw Y/N this happy 🥹 Lew is so good for her

user2 Her ex really fumbled 🤪

user3 I’m so glad he didn’t, otherwise when was this ship gonna sail ? 👀

user4 Oh it’s DEFINITELY sailing honey 😏

lewishamilton and yourusername

Liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, georgerussell and 1 892 738 others

lewishamilton Champagne showers 😜

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yourusername Thanks for that, I can’t hear now. Merc strategy 🧐 FIA needs to look into this

lewishamilton Forgive me 🥺❤️

yourusername Hmm…I’ll think about it 🤔

lewishamilton I’m sitting right next to you 🙃

user1 These 2 ^^^ I’m DEAD 💀

yournamehamilton THEY ARE DATING 100%

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yourusername and lewishamilton

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yourusername Mi amore 🤍

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lewishamilton ❤️❤️❤️

fanofyourusername OH MY GOD 😱

lewhamilton Talk about hard launch 🤩

user1 Who wrote their love story 😭😭😭

ferarrifangirl From rivals since they were teens to lovers 😩 Y/N stays WINNING

charlesleclerc Called it 😌

yourusername Ariana, what are you doing here 🫣

user2 They were meant for each other all along 🥹

LH44crew It’s beyond me how Y/N never noticed the way he used to look at her 😭😭😭

hamiltonyourname Find yourself a man that looks at you like Sir Lewis Hamilton 😩

[cheollipop]

ꕥ— 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮

navi | taglist

pairing: kitty!choi san x owner!reader x puppy!jung wooyoung

w.c.: 4.4k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader, mxm heavy (check tags)

squeezed between your body and wooyoung's, kisses littered over his heated skin and whimpers dragged out from between his lips, you guided san through his first heat.

warnings: threesome (m/f/m), thigh humping, unprotected sex (👎), vaginal sex, mxm, anal fingering, some rimming, anal sex, slick for lube lmao, bottom!san, top!wooyoung, sub!san, service dom!reader, who knows what wooyoung is, man just wants to fuck, knotting, multiple orgasms (m&f), so much cum, like a crazy amount, very unrealistic amount of cum, handjob, male squirting, breeding kink, lots of praise, lots of overstimulation, lots of creampies, some cockwarming, some spit, san is very whiny, nicknames (mommy; woo, youngie; sannie, kitty, love, darling), I think that's all?

A/N: this is thank you gift to one of the sweetest people I've had the honour of meeting!! @roodles17 /@littleocean-rose thank you so much for everything, and I really hope I did your idea justice!! happy reading~~

nsfw and warnings under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Fingers pressing into the tattered keycaps, you basked under the sliver of sunlight filtering through the open blinds above your desk, the shining orb only now departing from its locus, a couple more hours to go before the sky changed hues and the clouds resembled cotton candy. You sighed as you turned your attention back to your screen, urging your hands to move while your unfinished report stared back at you.

You don’t hear the muted shuffling behind you, bare feet padding along the floorboards until they reached your side, a subtle gush of air blowing over your skin as the cat hybrid crouched beside you, nuzzling his cheek into your lap. You smiled at the gesture, moving one hand off your keyboard to run it through his blonde locks, taking in his docile form as he sat on the floor by your desk chair. Your mind wandered back to his first few weeks with you: he would only eat when he was alone, startle at any sound, hiss and bite whenever you tried getting near him. But now, that same hybrid sought out affection and even began initiating it, growing whinier every second your attention was not on him, his lips pouting egregiously until you welcomed him into your lap.

He tilted his chin upwards, setting it on your thigh to look up at you expectantly, shifting onto his knees as his eyes grew wider. You huffed out a laugh at his expression, and you knew the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the golden rays of spring shining through your window. But your work deadline ticked in your head, your eyes flitting back towards your laptop as its fan whirred in the background, sighing in defeat.

“I really need to get this done, Sannie,” the disappointment on his face pulled at your heartstrings. “I’m sorry, love. Give me an hour or two and I’ll be all yours, okay?”

The pout on his lips persisted, but a hesitant nod shook his head. You smiled. He was your good boy.

San remained by your side for next hour, cheek smushed against your pajama bottoms and his tail brushing over your feet every time it swayed. It distracted you at first, the subtle purr vibrating over your thigh, but soon your fingers began moving steadily over the keys, typing paragraph after paragraph, San’s restless fidgeting going unnoticed as you immersed yourself into your report.

He stared up at your profile, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and your lips pursed while you worked, a shot of pain surging through his tight abdomen. You’d heard San make a lot of noises—needy meows, hearty giggles, feisty hisses—but the pained mewl slipping through his lips wasn’t one of them, instantly turning your head towards him. Teary eyes met yours, his chin propped up on your thigh and his face contorting into that of fiery need, fingers grasping at your calves in an attempt to ground himself. You noted the trail of slick left on the floorboards under him, shimmering under the sunlight as he rutted over the solid wood.

Drawing your attention back to his eyes, you held his face in your palms, “Sannie, can you tell me what hurts, love?”

“I-I can’t wait anymore, ‘hurts,” tears welled up in his eyes, and before you could repeat your question, San’s hand finds its way between his legs, palming over the tent in his pink sleep shorts with built-up desperation. “Please, ‘want you now.”

You glanced at your screen, the nearing deadline ticking in your head as you weighed your options. Small hands tugged at your flowy bottoms, the sound of reckless shuffling focusing your attention on San as he dragged his hips along the floor, soft whimper slipping through his parted lips. Your fingers twitched over his skin, slipping down to rest on his biceps.

“How about you grind against mommy while she gets the rest of her work done, hm?”

San’s eyes lit up, and he hurriedly scrambled off the floor to straddle one of your thighs, panting heavily as you moved his waistband down—sucking in a deep breath at the lack of underwear—and snapping it under his balls. The thin material was soaked through, precum and slick darkening the cotton as San’s arousal flooded out of his delicate body. You’d never seen the cat hybrid act this way, eying over his reddening skin while he grinded his leaking cock over your upper thigh, streaks of precum staining the fabric.

“Good?” You pushed back the blonde strands sticking to his damp forehead.

“’F-feels weird, mommy, I- ah!”

“Weird how, love?” You brushed a thumb over his shut eyelid, a silent request for him to look at you, and he did, peaking at you through the thick veil of arousal clouding his senses. “Tell mommy how you’re feeling.”

“I-I don’t know...”

The pout on his lips drew a smile on yours, “Do you not feel good?”

“No! ‘Feels so good…. I-I’m so close,” his hips slowed, San's eyebrows furrowing at the languid pace despite it being his own doing.

“Does kitty want to cum?” You smiled, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

He bit back a moan, canines digging into his bottom lip as he tortured himself with slow drags over your clothed skin. “But, ngh- I don’t wanna get your clothes dirty.”

Fondness flooded your chest, your heart about to burst at the innocence held within his words, contrasting the flushed state of his skin and the precum seeping into your patterned pants. “Oh Sannie, you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Your lips stretched further at the subtle perk-up of his ears at the nickname, “don’t worry about that, darling, we can wash them later.”

Your hands found their place on his behind, guiding his movements over your thigh until airy moans poured out of him. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck, he breathed in your scent, blowing hot air out of his lungs while he frantically rolled his hips back into your palms, and forwards over the soft cotton. Mumbled pleas and heavy pants muffled by your skin, the stutter of his hips as you moved them over you, San drowned himself in the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsing while ropes of white painted over the pattern on your pants.

A rough tongue ran over your pulse point, suckling on the delicate skin as he continued to grind over you, still hard and not showing any signs of fatigue. Unusual, you thought, as the hybrid was usually satisfied after one round, feeding off the attention you’d given him until another wave of need overtook him. Frenetic hips continued to move over your thigh, aided by the translucent liquid coating your pants, his thrusts only calming down once a third body entered the room, resonant footsteps turning hushed as bare feet pressed into the fluffy rug in your study. A curious—and slightly erratic—nose dug into the side of San’s freckled neck, Wooyoung’s hanging ears along with a few strands of purple brushing against the side of your face, the poignant scent of lavender permeating the air around you. Sandwiched between the two bodies, you watched queryingly as his sniffing nose trailed upwards to nuzzle into the other hybrid’s hair—yet another unusual occurrence.

After a couple months of cautious steps and endless bickering, the two hybrids were basically inseparable. Their scent mingled into one, and one of their beds was almost always empty as they began to favour a shared sleeping arrangement. But Wooyoung was acting strange, as though he was experiencing a new side to San, inhaling a scent different to the one he’d grown used to.

“Smells so good,” he muttered into the blonde locks, arm circling the two bodies in the creaking chair to pull San closer with a hand on his lower back, pushing him further into your chest with the gesture.

“Youngie…” Wooyoung’s ears perked up at the gravelly tone, but his face remained buried into the side of San’s head. “Youngie, ‘want you, please,” his hips gave a few aggressive thrusts before another load of hot cum spurted out of his angry cockhead, a broken cry sending a wave of arousal down to your core, and—judging by the grunt leaving the puppy hybrid’s lips—Wooyoung’s as well.

You gave San a few seconds to wind down, sucking in a surprised gasp when the hybrid returned to his insistent grinding, a whispered “not enough” on his lips. With your hands on his shoulders, you pulled him off you until his flushed face returned to your field of vision, glossy lips parted and eyes lidded with lust while he moved his cock over a puddle of his own cum. Levelling Wooyoung with a warning look, the hybrid pulled back his meddling nose with a dejected whine, allowing you to examine the cat hybrid without his unneeded assistance. You placed a hand on his cheek, the other on his forehead, eyebrows raising at the abnormal warmth seeping into your palms as the blonde nuzzled into your touch, a soft purr vibrating in his chest. The high temperature, the urgent need for stimulation, the obscene amount of cum coating your thigh—you gathered the symptoms in your head, a final diagnosis flashing in red before your eyes. Of course.

Your fingers slid into his hair, thumb brushing over his cheekbone while you scratched at the hair behind his ears, the worry pulling your eyebrows together lessening at the way San melted under your touch. “Oh, love, you’re in heat?” It was as though your words had reminded him of his current situation, his movements growing frantic again, the hand you’d slid down to his hips proving useless in calming him down. “My poor baby,” you cooed, allowing him to move as he wished, “you won’t feel better until you get a knot in you.”

San’s head snapped upwards, looking for the puppy hybrid’s eyes and finding them staring right back at him, the veins in his hands protruding out of the delicate skin as he gripped the edge of the chair behind you to prevent himself from reaching out to San. Your good boy, following your unspoken instruction.

Small hands circled around your head to grab fistfuls of Wooyoung’s shirt, making you on eye-level with San’s chest as his eyes grew teary with overflowing need, “please, Youngie, please knot me.”

Peering down at you with a questioning gaze, hints of desperation glimmering in his hooded eyes, Wooyoung silently asked you an obvious question, his fingers twitching beside your head. You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as your chest brimmed with teeming adoration.

“What do you say, Youngie, should we help our poor kitty out?”

--

Small hands kneaded at the backs of your thighs, folding you in half and leaning over your body while he dug his blunt nails into the flesh, the relaxed pace at which he squeezed at your skin contrasting that of his hips, hammering into your soaked pussy without relent, as though he hadn’t dragged two orgasms out of you already. You slid a hand over the side of his neck, bringing his head down until the tell-tale roughness of his tongue grazed your collarbone.

San’s thrusts faltered, his hips now shallowly rolling into your cunt while mumbled gibberish mixed with whimpers poured onto your chest in hot exhales. He was more so rutting his hips back than forward, meeting Wooyoung’s long fingers as they stretched him open, a stream of slick dripping down San’s balls and mingling with your arousal and his cum, a thick load already stuffed deep within you. At the change in demeanour, Wooyoung prodded the pads of his fingers at the swollen gland again, eyes following the frantic sway of the fluffy white tail in front of him, and noting the subtle twitch of San’s toned thighs.

“Youngie, ‘s enough,” San pleaded, voice drowned out as he dug his face further into the crook of your neck, and Wooyoung decided he liked that reaction. So he repeated the motion, once, twice, until you felt his throbbing length pulsating within you. “Nghh! P-please I-”

He drew his hips away from the relentless digits, sheathing himself within your warm walls as Wooyoung milked him from the back, his muscles jerking with every brush against his prostate. He pulled his fingers out at the first protest from the cat hybrid, a feisty paw swinging backwards in complaint, instead leaning down lick a stripe over San’s winking hole, clenching uselessly as slicked oozed out of it. That same paw reached back to press against the back of Wooyoung’s head, pushing him further between his legs as the starved tongue lapped at his puckered rim.

To your surprise, San’s attention focused back onto you, his eyes lidded but still aware, not yet clouded with the thick haze of his heat. Rolling his hips experimentally, San’s eyebrows furrowed in discomfort momentarily before relaxing, languidly grinding his once-again hardening cock into your cunt, exhaling breathy moans that reached your face in negligible puffs, “am I making you feel good, mommy?”

You carded your fingers through his soft locks, the sound of Wooyoung suckling excitedly on San’s rim drowning into the background as gentle eyes awaited your affirmation. “You feel so good, Sannie, always so good got me, love,” the corners of your lips curved into an easy smile, your overwhelming infatuation towards the hybrid pouring into your expression. But then his face contorted again, as though every motion within you wounded him. “Sannie, does it hurt, darling? We can stop now if you’re tired-”

“No!” Pink painted his cheeks at the sudden raise in his tone, his next words uttered under his breath with embarrassment laced into the syllables, “p-please don’t stop, mommy feels so good.... ‘wanna cum again, please, can I?”

Holding his face between your palms, you drew him closer to smack a few open-mouthed kisses onto his heated forehead, thumbing over his cheekbones while you eyed his features for a few seconds, his soft whine reminding you that he’d asked a question, “of course you can, darling, you can cum as many times as you want.” San’s ears perked up, his tail standing straight for a moment before beginning to wave at a building pace, becoming uncontrollable after he’d picked up your next words, “do you wanna try coming on Youngie’s knot?”

San's hips stilled, partly at your words, but also due to the firm chest now stuck to his sweat-covered back, Wooyoung’s cock snug between his cheeks. Small fingers clutched your thighs again, digging into the skin as Wooyoung teased his cockhead over the perky hole, smearing precum around until it formed a homogenous mixture with San’s slick before finally breaching his entrance. The tinges of neglect you’d been feeling faded away with every inch Wooyoung pushed into the hybrid above you, your position under him granting you a front-row view to his changing expressions—his delicate features reforming as pleasure seeped through his nerves, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep them open, drawing a perfect circle with his mouth and widening it into an oval once Wooyoung bottomed out. You resisted shutting your eyes, wanting to take in the hushed whimpers escaping the back of San’s throat without any external interferences, but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the hybrid’s face.

Wooyoung’s patience had never been the greatest, always first to jump off the couch whenever he heard your footsteps approaching the front door; not backing down even after getting scolded for crowding you while you made dinner. So you weren’t particularly surprised when he allowed San only a few seconds to adjust, snapping his hips into the hybrid with urgency, pushing his body into yours with every forceful thrust. Veiny hands found San’s waist, gripping the narrow diameter while he drove his cock into his dripping hole, lowering his head to watch himself sink into the stretched rim, and puckered his lips to drop a wad of spit over it, adding to the mess San had already made.

The sweat coating San’s forehead smeared over your chest, his body curling in on itself as he simply took Wooyoung’s cock, giving up on his lousy attempts at thrusting into you. Wrapping your arms around San’s shoulders, you cradled the back of his head and pressed your lips to his hair, the sound of skin-on-skin blending in with the soft mewls vibrating against your chest while Wooyoung pounded into him.

“Kitty feels so good, so warm inside, ah-” his hands slid off San’s waist, one curving over the slope of his ass, spreading him open until the stretched hole peeked at him, squeezing deliciously around his cock, the other pressing onto his lower back.

San's back arched, his nipples rubbing over your torso with every forward jerk, “Youngie, please m-more- ‘want more- hnngh!”

The tone of his voice, the airy moans paired with the drool pooling over your skin, the minute brushes of his cockhead over your g-spot—you were beginning to feel impatient, walls clenching around his throbbing length. That was enough to drive him over the edge, your eyebrows shooting up when warmth spread through your lower belly, the hybrid’s body shuddering as another orgasm rushed through him, Wooyoung’s hips resolute as he guided him through his high.

Through the thick haze of lust, Wooyoung’s eyes locked on you, seemingly noticing your restless state as you warmed San’s cock. He leaned over the blonde’s body, planting a kiss over his shoulder blade, “is kitty being lazy?” the words seemed to fly over his head, his eyes barely open as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, so Wooyoung gave him a harsh thrust to drag his attention back to him, a startled cry leaving his lips, “Does Sannie like Youngie’s cock that much? Too dumb to do anything but take it?”

San’s head shot off your chest, craning his neck to look back at the puppy hybrid, “l-love Youngie’s cock, please, ‘want it so bad-”

Despite San’s pleads, Wooyoung remained still, one hand squeezing at the flesh of his ass and the other reaching forward to lock with yours, “uh uh, you gotta move properly, San-ah,” he rolled his hips once, moving San with him, his cock hard and throbbing inside you.

“It’s okay, Woo,” you tried, but Wooyoung shook his head.

“Mommy should feel good too,” he pulled his hand away, holding San’s hips and guiding his movements—forward to properly fuck into you, then back to sink his cock into his tight heat.

With your walls wrapped around him and his around Wooyoung’s, the leaking cockhead pressing into his prostate every time it split him open, San’s breathing quickened, chest flushed and heaving as a melody of moans fell off his tongue. Unsatisfied with the pace San was going at, Wooyoung returned to his frenzied rhythm, taking San’s hips with him as he hammered his cock into his tight ass. Soft fingers grasped at the sheets by your head, glimmering eyes—glazed over and glassy—staring back at you, his lips moving in unuttered words as he found his voice through the sounds of pleasure occupying it.

“A-am I doing good, mommy? Is Sannie making you f-feel good?”

The desperation in his voice caused the butterflies in your stomach to thrash around, your fingers gentle as they caressed the hair at his crown, your other hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders, gliding smoothly over the sweat beading over his skin. “My good boy, doing so well for me,” you cooed.

And he was. Shots of pleasure seared up your spine as his cock dragged over your pulsing walls, curving into your sweet spot to push you closer to the edge. You could hear the distinct purr reverberating in San’s chest, the gap between your bodies small enough to allow his perked-up nipples to faintly brush against yours with every onward sway.

You could hear Wooyoung’s growing frantic, leaning forward and growling into San’s neck as he fucked into his dripping ass, “mommy, please, hah- c-can I fill kitty up? ‘wanna fuck his breeding hole full of Youngie’s cum, can I please?”

Heat surged through your insides at his words, his lidded eyes peeking at you over San’s shoulder, and you could see his tail wagging violently in the background. You pushed a purple strand off his forehead, brushing your thumb over his eyebrow as you spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone while San’s hips bucked into you, “you have t-to ask Sannie, baby, not me.”

Burying his nose into San’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent emitting off him between the words he muffled into his skin, “Sannie, can I? C-can I give you my knot? ‘Want you to have Youngie’s pups.”

A whimper escaped through San’s parted lips, not knowing whether to pump his cock into you or to fuck himself on Wooyoung’s, his rhythm all over the place as he pathetically whined and begged for release, “y-yeah- yes, please- ‘Wanna have your pups, g-give it all to me- nghh!”

Amidst the chaos occurring above you, your nerves lit up as your orgasm snuck up on you, your lips parting in a silent cry while San continued his arrhythmic thrusts despite the tremors shaking your body. Whispered I’m sorry's blew over your skin, the setting sun bidding you farewell through the open blinds and painting the walls in a pinkish hue, the rays’ warmth nearly equivalent to that within you as San’s cock spurted weak ribbons of white between your walls. You whimpered at the overstimulation, and San pulled out of you, resting his softening length on your mound while the other hybrid used him like a fucktoy.

The rasp in Wooyoung’s voice echoed in your ears, “gonna look so pretty when you’re swollen.” San’s mewled in response. “All mine, my pretty kitty, going to take all of Youngie’s cum,” he ended with a throaty grunt, snapping his hips thrice before stilling, his knot locking in place and his abdomen flexing as he unloaded inside his heat.

San’s body seized up atop of yours, his face scrunching in discomfort momentarily before easing, and his muscles turned to jelly as he relaxed over you. But Wooyoung’s hand reached between their tangled limbs, pressing San’s spent cock into your lower belly and ignoring the broken protests from below. Grinding his hips into San’ stretched rim, he emptied his thick load inside his used hole, his hand dragging the blonde’s cock over the faint bulge in your tummy where a pool of his cum sat within your womb.

“Youngie, ‘hurts, it hurts-” He hiccupped, and yet his hips followed the movement, forcing his eyelids open to watch his angry cockhead smear watery cum and remnants of your arousal over the skin. “I can’t- please, I-I-”

“Yes you can, Sannie,” you interjected, running a shaky hand through his damp locks, “you can give Woo and I one more, right?”

His eyes welled up with tears, but he nodded nonetheless, the thick knot tugging against his swollen entrance as he slid his length over your skin. “F-feels weird, mommy,” but San kept moving, Wooyoung’s hand still spread over the length to trap him against you.

It was as though a pressure had been rapidly building inside him—Wooyoung’s knot stretching him open and his cum fucked so deep inside him, your skin so smooth and tender under his overstimulated cock as he continued to rut against it. Rough fingers wrapped around the base of his tail, tugging harshly and sending waves of euphoria crashing through San’s trembling body. The pressure burst in the form of translucent streams, his cock twitching uncontrollably as Wooyoung palmed over the head, urging more liquid to squirt out of it and coat your torso. A broken cry ripped out of San’s throat, jerking backwards and away from the puppy’s merciless touch until he gave him some reprieve.

Strong arms wrapped around San’s waist, holding him against his firm body while his chest rose and fell erratically. You sat up, running gentle hands over San’s thighs while peppering kisses over his damp skin, patient while the spasming in his muscles died down. Resting back on his heels, Wooyoung’s arms remained protective around San’s delicate body, eyes roaming over the liquid dripping off your breasts and down your abdomen, a cheeky smile stretching his lips until his canines peeked through:

“I think kitty's all out of milk.”

Once Wooyoung’s knot went down, he slapped off the sticky paws clinging to him and kissed away the pout painting San’s lips, rushing out of bed to clean up. San complained for less than minute before you walked in—showered and carrying a wet rag—to clean him up, running the cloth between his legs and wiping away all the slick and cum. He would shower later, but now, he allowed you to slip a fresh pair of matching pajamas onto his limp body, inhaling the familiar scent of your vanilla-scented laundry detergent before sinking into the clean bedding you’d laid out.

Settling into bed with his head tucked into your neck, limbs tangled up underneath the duvet, you heard the resonant purr sounding in his chest a few seconds before wet footsteps breached the doorway. A warm body followed by a trail of floral bodywash stretched over you to flop behind San's figure, arms enveloping the fatigued hybrid and his hands falling over your waist. With a final look at the two of them—San’s eyes fluttering shut as he succumbed to his exhaustion, cheeks flushed and his hair matted with dried-up sweat; a soft snore dragging your attention to the knocked-out puppy, damp, purple locks spread out on the pillow under his head while he squeezed himself flush against San’s back.

Despite his drowsiness, San peeked an eye open to look at you, an easy smile curling the corners of his lips once he found your gaze. You leaned forward to press your lips to his forehead, then his cheekbones, and finally his pouted lips, moving back while scratching behind his fluffed ears to watch slumber pulling his eyelids shut. You mooned over the tranquillity weaved into his expression—the subtle tug at the corner of his lips, a smile he couldn’t hold back even when unconscious—as though he carried no concern for the next wave of his heat, content so long as he remained encompassed within the familiar scent of vanilla and lavender.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"you can do whatever you want, you're not Stuck With Me."

"i'll tell you one thing, we'd make history, you and me. you're getting closer now, it's getting better now, but you're still so far gone."

synopsis// bottled up feelings have to come out eventually.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 8k

contents// angst with a happy ending, college!au, literally just y/n and geto being idiots but mostly y/n, shoko only knows tough love, obligatory rain scene, friends to lovers, ooc geto?

notes// scorpions are haunting me so i’m posting this as a distraction. anyways one of my anons requested this!!! so anon i hope i did ur idea justice and that u like it sorry its kinda all over the place.... anywho so besides this being a request, it was also inspired by the song the point by eatmewhileimhot! bye :3 OH and if anyone else has any other requests feel free to lmk!!

You poke at your food, focusing on the sound your fork makes as it scrapes against your plate instead of whatever the person sitting across from you is saying. You know you should pay attention; you know you’re being rude, but god, are you bored out of your fucking mind. You would much rather be hanging out with Suguru right now, feeling a twinge of regret at turning him down just for this.

“Y/N?” 

Your head raises to look at the person in front of you. “Huh?” 

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You frown sheepishly. “Uh, no, sorry.”

“It’s fine,“ they say, clearing their throat, “I was just saying how I kinda wish we went somewhere else cause I'm craving zaru soba, but I wanted to impress you, you know?”

You nod, not computing the last of his sentence with your brain stuck on the mention of zaru soba. “Suguru likes that.”

“What?”

“Zaru soba—Suguru likes that.”

Your date shoots you a confused stare, and you subconsciously sink into your chair.

“Is, uh, is there something on my face or?” you ask, bringing your hands up to feel around your face.

They shake their head. “No, it’s just—uh, you bring up this Suguru guy a lot, and by a lot, I mean like you’ve brought him up this whole date...”

“I have?” 

They nod. 

“Shit—i’m sorry..” 

“It’s fine.” They dismiss your apology by asking, “What is he to you anyway?”

You stare at him blankly. That’s an easy question. Suguru, to you, is your—he’s your—

“He your friend or something?”

Yes! Suguru is your friend—your best friend even—so why can't you say it out loud? Why are you hesitating?

You laugh nervously, mumbling, “Or something...”

“Or something?” they repeat in hopes you’ll elaborate on what you mean.

You don’t.

Instead, you stand abruptly out of your seat and gather your things. “Um! You know, this has been really great and all, but I actually think I should get going.”

"Oh, okay,” they say, standing up with you. “Uh, do you wanna do this again maybe?”

“You're a lovely person, but...

“It's Suguru, isn't it?”

“What?” You almost choke on your spit as you frantically stammer, “No, uh, no! It's not Suguru-Suguru’s just my-it's-“ you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “It's not because of him.”

They curtly hum. “Thanks for giving me a chance anyway.”

You nod. “I'm gonna—I'm gonna go.”

☆☆☆☆

Suguru is face down on a pillow on his bed when Gojo walks into their shared dorm.

“What happened now?” He asks as he goes to sit on the edge of Suguru’s bed.

“Y/N’s on a date,” he grumbles into the pillow, his words barely audible.

Gojo rolls his eyes. "Suguru, this is just sad at this point.”

Suguru lifts his head and glares at Gojo from over his shoulder. His eyes burning holes into the other's head.

“What? It is!” 

Suguru groans and kicks Gojo as he buries his face back into his pillow.

“Ow! Don’t get mad at me for telling the truth!”

Suguru kicks him again.

“Stop that! You’re acting like a child!”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ok, listen, this isn’t about me,” Gojo adds, rolling his eyes.

Suguru rolls onto his back and drapes an arm over his face, muttering, “Whatever.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Gojo grumbles as he stands up and walks over to his own bed. “I can't take this, Suguru.“ He grabs his pillow and throws it at Suguru. "You can't do this every time they go on a date!”

Suguru doesn’t even flinch when the pillow lands on his face, nor does he bother moving it as he responds, “Watch me.”

Gojo walks back over to Suguru and grabs the pillow from his face before resuming his position on the end of Suguru's bed. "How long has it been?”

“Since?”

“Since you first started liking them.”

Suguru hesitates to answer, “Too long.”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, shaking the pillow in his hands for dramatic effect. “Maybe…”

Suguru waits a moment to see if Gojo will finish his sentence, and when he doesn’t, Suguru sits up, quirking up his eyebrow at him as he asks slowly, as if attempting to subtly warn Gojo to pick his next words carefully: "Maybe what, Gojo?”

“Maybe it’s time to try and move on, Suguru…” He frowns and asks softly, “Are you just gonna torture yourself like this for the rest of your life?”

Suguru sighs and turns away from Gojo, a small frown on his face. He knows he’s right, but he’s scared in all honesty because, on the one hand, what if it works? What if he actually does move on? What if it was this easy to move on this whole time and he was just here torturing himself for nothing? And on the other hand, he doesn't want it to. He’s liked you for so long. You've taken up so much of his heart that, at this point, he thinks his heart is shaped like you, and it would feel wrong to not like you. He can't imagine himself not being completely and utterly devoted to you, and he doesn’t think he wants to.

“Suguru.” 

Suguru's brows knit together as he looks up at Gojo.

Gojo sighs. “Just try? One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. “I don’t even know anybody, Gojo.”

He perks up at the absence of rejection and happily explains, “Don’t worry bout that; leave it all up to me!" He emphasizes the word 'me' by pointing toward himself.

“Ok, well, that makes me even more inclined to say no.”

"Suguru, pleaseee,” Gojo begs. “Just one date!! That’s all I’m asking! You’re my friend, Suguru, and I know I don’t act like it, but I really do hate seeing you like this.”

Suguru crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow at him in suspicion, wondering, “Why are you being nice?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I do in fact care about my friends.”

Suguru breathes out heavily at his response, letting a brief silence wash over them.

“So..." Gojo pries. 

“Fine.”

“Yay!-“

Suguru instantly cuts him off, one finger raised, as he emphasizes sharply, “But just one date, Gojo.“

“Good enough for me!” he says, nodding quickly. “This will be the best date of your life, and you’ll realize you don’t even like Y/N all that much!”

Suguru feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him from that statement but quickly plays it off with a scoff, “Yeah, or it’s the worst date of my life, and I realize just how much more I like Y/N.”

“Ok, well,“ Gojo frowns and scratches his head awkwardly, “Can we at least try to be optimistic?”

“Fine.”

☆☆☆☆

Shoko’s sitting on her bed with her textbook in her lap when you enter your dorm, kicking your shoes off haphazardly across the room and slamming the door shut.

“You good?”

You groan in response as you sluggishly make your way toward her, pushing the book off her lap and instead replacing it with your head.

She looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I was reading that, you know.”

You groan again, but this time it comes out louder and more gutteral.

“Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or are you gonna just lay here in my lap groaning?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

You pout, looking up at her. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Where should I start?”

“Shoko,” you whine.

She bites back a smile as she asks, “Why would you think something's wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I mean, I go on so many dates, right?”

Shoko nods and hums something in acknowledgment.

“But they all never end up working out! Like none of them!” You exclaim, throwing your hands out in front of you, barely missing Shoko, who jerks her head to the side just in time. “They always all say the same thing.”

She pushes your hands back down so that she can return to her original position and asks, “Which is?”

You let your hands fall onto your chest as you turned your head to the side to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “That I mention Suguru a lot.”

You don’t even have to look back up at her to know she’s raising her eyebrows at you in question.

“Well, do you?”

Your gaze snaps back up at her as you exclaim, “Yeah, but!” You pause. “He's my… He's my best friend, so obviously I'd mention him a lot!”

The word best friend feels heavy and foreign in your mouth, like it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You’ve never had to put a label on you and Suguru, not until the dates at least, but even then, you and Suguru were just... simply that. You were just you and Suguru.

“Really feeling the love here.”

“Shokoooooo.”

She rolls her eyes. “You were just on a date, right?”

You nod. 

“And so what happened?”

“Nothing! I was bored; I'm always bored on these dates.”

"Okay, hypothetically,” she says, “What would you have rather been doing?”

“Hanging out with Suguru! I always tell myself that I'm literally gonna stop canceling on him for dates because I always end up regretting it.”

“Right, right,” she says, nodding. “Y/N, have you ever considered that maybe you like Geto?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I like Suguru, idiot. Did you not just hear me call him my-“

She cuts you off: “Your best friend. Yeah, whatever; that's not what I mean. I mean, like. romantically.”

“Huh?” Shoko’s words take a minute to fully register in your brain, but once they do, your jaw drops. “Huh?! Pft, no, of course not, that is... That is a… That is a silly thought.”

She stares down at you blankly, knowing the way you just stumbled over your whole sentence reveals your lack of conviction in your own words. "Right… Well, if you’re gonna be an idiot in denial, can you do that in your own bed? I need to study.”

You roll your eyes as you sit up. “Is studying all you do?”

She shrugs, and now that her lap is free from you, she places her textbook back into her lap. “Is obsessing over Geto all you do?”

“I don't like you.”

“You love me. Now leave me alone.”

You begrudgingly hop off her bed and into your own, making it a point to sigh dramatically the whole time. Once you're in your own bed, your phone goes off, and upon seeing who the message is from, you bite back a smile.

Shoko looks up from her textbook at the noise. “Oh? That your man?”

“Shut your mouth.”

She simply laughs under her breath before returning to her studies, and you happily return your attention back to your phone. 

Suguru<3: hey

Y/N: hey!

Suguru<3: oh I didn't expect you to reply so quick lol. I thought u were on a date?

Y/N: was :/ that shit suckedddddd it was so boring Suguru pls I would've much rather hung out with you

Suguru<3: well I mean u could've

Y/N: I KNOWWWW ugh next time remind me to never cancel on you for a lame date again k?

Suguru<3: yeah I will… so I'm taking it you won't be seeing them again?

Y/N: definitely not... I do wanna see u again tho!!

Suguru<3: you'll see me in class y/n

Y/N: yeah but that's so far awayyyyy

Suguru<3: yk if u wanna hangout rn u can just say so 

Y/N: do u wanna hang out?

Suguru<3: he can't he's busy -gojo 

Y/N: gojo when I get my hands on u. 

Suguru<3: :p -gojo

You groan dramatically and throw your phone somewhere onto your bed as you shove your face into your pillow, mumbling, “I'm going to sleep.”

“Eager to see your man tomorrow?”

“Die.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Gojo and Suguru are walking to class when Gojo starts humming obnoxiously, like he’s thinking about something and wants someone to notice, so he doesn’t stop until Suguru sighs.

“Can you shut up?”

Gojo frowns and feigns hurt. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m thinking about?”

“Fine, what are you thinking about, Gojo?”

Gojo slightly leans in toward Suguru as he coos, “Thinking about who I’m gonna set you up with, obviously!”

"Oh, right about that...”

“Nuh uh, you can't back out!”

“But I think they might feel the same?” Suguru says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gojo’s head whips toward Suguru in shock. “Wait huh?” 

“Before you stole my phone yesterday—which I’m still mad about, by the way—they said they would’ve rather hung out with me than go on the date,” he says, pulling out his phone to show Gojo the texts.

Gojo doesn’t say anything, and the lack of anything coming out of his mouth worries Suguru, who’s now scanning Gojo’s face for a trace of anything to tell him what the other is thinking and gets it when Gojo finally cracks a frown.

“What? Why do you look like that?” Suguru asks, and he hates how it comes out more panicked than he intended, his own voice like nails on a chalkboard to his ears.

“I don't wanna say anything that would get your hopes up,” Gojo says, his gaze now fixed on his steps. “And besides, maybe this date could still be good.”

“You’re not gonna let me get out of this, are you?”

“Of course not!” he says, his regular pep back in his step. “So does tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, whatever, Gojo, you’d make me go regardless, I don’t know why you ask.”

“Lol, true anyway." Gojo’s steps come to a halt. "Here’s my class; see you later!”

Suguru waves him off: "Yeah, whatever, oh, and Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“At least set me up with someone good," he says, an ever-so-slight smile on his face.

“Of course! Leave it all up to me, bestie!”

Suguru nods and continues on toward his own class, only then does he huff, “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

☆☆☆☆

You sat in your seat, your cheek leaning in your palm, sighing every so often from boredom but quickly perking up when you notice a familiar face walk through the door.

“Suguru!” 

“Y/N!”

Your gaze is glued to him as you watch him take his seat beside you; only once he’s fully situated do you speak up again: “I was wondering if you were skipping or something.”

Suguru tilts his head at you in confusion, asking, “Why?”

“Because you took so long.”

He tries to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up. What were you doing anyway?”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Gojo made me walk him to class.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice unamused as you speak, “Lame excuse, I walk with Shoko to her class every day and I still get here before you.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it’s Shoko?”

“True, I’ll excuse it for today if...”

“If?” He narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue your sentence.

“If we hang out tomorrow?”

“Can we hang out today?” He looks away as he says, “I’m kinda busy tomorrow....”

“Aw man,” you say, frowning, “You’re never busy.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just—" He halts before mumbling out the rest of his sentence—“something Gojo’s making me do.”

Suguru finally returns his gaze to you when he hears you huff.

“He’s taking you from me too often; I'll have to intervene sooner or later if he keeps this up.”

He stifles a laugh. “Can you not today?”

“Nope, I've gotta work on a project for one of my classes,” you say with a disappointed sigh.

“Okay, well, how about Wednesday, then?”

“I can fit you into my schedule, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up; don’t act like you weren’t the one asking me to hang out last night.”

“I was a different person then,” you deadpan.

Suguru rolls his eyes but can’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Yeah, ok.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Come the next afternoon, Suguru finds himself staring into a mirror at his outfit with a small scowl on his face.

“I look stupid.”

“You always look stupid,” Gojo remarks, patting Suguru on the back.

Suguru ignores him and rolls his eyes, his voice small as he borderline pleads, “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes! It’s too late to back out now when your date is in like twenty minutes, so really you should get going by now,” he says while attempting to push Suguru out the door.

Suguru doesn’t budge. “I don't even know this person, Gojo.”

“That’s what dates are for!”

Suguru looks over his shoulder at Gojo, who’s still trying to push him out the door. “You know this isn’t gonna work, right?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and huffs, “Well, not with that attitude.”

“Gojo.”

“Suguru, you said you’d try! so go! try!”

Suguru sighs and reluctantly gives in… again. “I hate you.”

Gojo waves him off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you can hate me after your date.”

Suguru doesn’t reply and instead opts to flip him off as he walks out the door.

☆☆☆☆

Suguru sits at a secluded booth in a dimly lit restaurant, lost in thought rather than listening to whatever the person sitting across from him is saying. He knows he should be paying attention; he knows he’s being rude, but god is he bored out of his fucking mind, and to say he’s hating every second of this is an understatement. He’d much rather be hanging out with you right now, regretting turning you down for this because just being here makes a part of him feel like he’s betraying you, and the thought has him anxiously wiping his sweaty palms against his pants. He’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you. Suguru was naive to believe he could delude himself into thinking that there was any possibility in any way that he’d move on, let alone with someone Gojo picked.

“Suguru?”

He quickly looks up at the person in front of him. “Yeah?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry—I guess I was just, uh, lost in thought.”

"Oh, it’s fine,” they say, confusingly normal about the whole situation. “I was just, um, talking about your friend Gojo, actually.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“I was actually hoping you'd help me get with him?”

“You do realize you're on a date with me, right?”

“Please.” They roll their eyes. “Don't act like you wanna be here any more than I do right now.”

“How did-“

“It's written all over your face, you know? They must be really special.” They tease with a sweet smile, “I almost feel like I should be jealous.”

Suguru swallows harshly, suddenly feeling way more exposed than he would ever want to, especially on a ‘date’. “Sorry…”

They shrug. “Don't be; honestly, I just said yes to this to get some pointers on Gojo, so I don't think I'm any better than you right now.”

Suguru nods, his mind reeling. He’s not actually sure what’s going on or how he got here in the first place. How could his date be so okay with the fact that he’s here thinking about someone else? Oh, right, because so are they, but it’s still not clicking in his brain.

“You can leave if you want.”

He narrows his eyes at them skeptically. “Huh?”

“To go hang out with the one you actually like.”

Suguru shakes his head. There’s somehow too much happening right now for him to comprehend. “Again, what?”

They roll their eyes playfully, an amused smile on their face, as they lean over the table and whisper, “Suguru, I'm giving you an out.”

He blinks, and suddenly everything clicks, and he doesn’t understand why he’s still here when they just told him they could go to you. He stands up abruptly and says, “Right, I'm...“

“Don't say you're sorry; make it up to me by going to them, yeah?”

“I really appreciate that. Uhm, text me and I'll give you pointers on Gojo?”

They laugh and nod. “Yeah. Now, shoo, go to the one you actually want to be with.”

Suguru turns his head toward the exit of the restaurant, ready to leave, but pauses and ends up turning back to his ‘date’, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“Mhm! Also, I want to meet them sometime, k? We’re friends now, sorry!”

“Yeah… Yeah, you can. Someday? Maybe…”

They tilt their head at him, unamused despite the smile on their face. “Bye Suguru.”

He returns the smile and waves before heading off to find you.

☆☆☆☆

You found yourself under a tree somewhere on campus, attempting—and failing—to entertain yourself since Suguru was busy and couldn't hang out, and you didn't even dare try to go to Shoko for entertainment, knowing her face is probably stuffed into her textbook and she would berate you for interrupting her, or if she did agree, she would spend the whole time with her whole face screaming how she would much rather be studying, even when her studying proves to be just for fun because she cheats on her exams anyway, but you digress. Lost in thought, you don't notice how someone’s approached you until their shadow falls over you.

“You dead?”

You look up and are pleasantly surprised to see Suguru. “Hey! I thought you were busy?”

Suguru shrugs. “Left early.”

“What’d you go do anyway?”

“A date.”

The minute the words leave Suguru’s mouth, you can feel your stomach churn in a horrible way. like you’re on a rollercoaster, but it's not fun; you want to get off, and you want to get off now, like this is final destination and you’re about to fall to your doom. Or more so, this makes you realize you've already fallen to your doom; you've already fallen in love with Suguru, and it took Shoko saying something and him going on a date for it to really sink in like it hadn't been there all along. Your jaw clenches, and you're quiet—terrifyingly quiet—and it makes Suguru regret saying anything; he doesn’t even know why he did... Okay, no, he knows. He knows he was acting petty and wanted to rub it in your face like you rub your dates in his, even if not purposeful, and besides, you two are friends, and friends are honest with each other. But maybe he shouldn’t have been, and it's excrutiatingly obvious he shouldn't have been when you suddenly stand up and avoid his gaze.

“Y/N?”

You kick at the dirt under your shoes and mumble, “I should, um, Shoko actually just texted me.”

“Y/N, can you look at me, please?” Suguru sounds desperate.

You look up at him and smile, but with the way your eyes are glazed over, it’s like you’re not even there. “Yeah?” 

“I thought we could hang out now?” 

“Yeah, but—ugh—Shoko really needs my help, you know?”

“Are we still on for tomorrow at least?”

“I hope your date was good, Suguru.”

“Y/N-“

“If I keep her waiting any longer, she’ll be really mad. I’m gonna go.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suguru wishes he could say he’s surprised when you don’t show up to class the next day, but he’s not. Not at all. Especially from the way you ran off yesterday to how you’re still not answering any of his texts or calls, it was a telltale sign that Suguru would not be seeing you today. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Of course not. So halfway through class, he left—not like he was paying attention anyway—and made his way to your dorm. Though he hesitates to knock once he’s actually there, he doesn’t even know why you’re ignoring him in the first place, and honestly? He’s scared to find out.

You’ve never acted like this with him before; you’ve always been an open book, always the first to speak up if something he did upset you, so he doesn’t understand why you’ve suddenly done a complete 180. He takes a deep breath before knocking. He came all this way; he isn’t going to just leave without figuring out what's wrong—or at least he’s going to try to figure out what's wrong.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

Suguru groans as he goes to knock one more time, but before he can, the door is swung open, and he’s met with a disheveled-looking Shoko.

“What?”

“Shoko, hi—“ Suguru gives her a quick once-over. "Sorry, were you asleep?”

She crosses her arms and blows a tuft of hair out of her face. “I was, and I'd like to go back to sleep, so-“

“Right, sorry, uh, is Y/N here?”

“No,” she replies quickly, far too quickly that Suguru doesn't believe her and instead tries to look into the room to find you. Shoko immediately picks up on this and shifts her body to cover any gaps he could look through. “They aren’t here, sorry.”

“Shoko,” he monotones.

She chews the inside of her lip and looks away, and Suguru can tell she's dying to say something, but she ultimately decides against it and shakes her head, looking back up at him.

“They’re not here, sorry.”

Suguru sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It's fine, sorry for waking you.”

“It's fine… Take care of yourself, Geto.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Shoko quickly shuts the door, and instead of climbing back into bed, she grabs her pillow and makes her way toward your bed, only to end up hitting you with it repeatedly. You pull your covers over your head in a futile attempt to protect yourself.

“Shoko, stop!”

“You stop.” She punctuates every word with a hit of her pillow.

“You’re the one hitting me!”

Shoko hits you one last time. “I mean, stop ignoring him, idiot.”

You peek your head out from under the covers, a frown on your face.

“Don't look at me like that; you’re acting childish, and you know that.”

“I can’t look at him.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Shoko, I'm serious!” You speak adamantly, sitting up. “I mean, I realize I like him the exact moment he tells me he went on a date?”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Shoko, I-I can't.”

“Whatever, sulk all you want; don't talk to him about it; I don't care; just scoot over.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“I'm tired,” she says blankly, now climbing into your bed.

You listen and scoot over, though it's more like she pushes you over. “You know you have your own bed, right?”

She yawns: “Too far away.”

You look down at her, and she's somehow already fast asleep. You roll your eyes and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling with your mind racing, and suddenly your phone vibrates. You know who it is; he’s the only one who texts you, but that doesn’t stop you from checking anyway.

Suguru<3: hey. 

Suguru<3: did I do something?

Suguru<3: I don't understand.

Suguru<3: you weren't in class so I tried going to ur dorm. shoko said you weren't there but I don't really believe her.

Suguru<3: can you just talk to me please?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

Suguru<3: guess this means we aren’t hanging out today huh?

Suguru<3: text me soon please.

☆☆☆☆

Thursday 

Suguru<3: no class again?

Suguru<3: look I get it

Suguru<3: okay maybe I don't.

Suguru<3: I don't know what I did wrong but if you don't wanna talk that's fine

Suguru<3: can you just let me know you’re okay?

Suguru<3: fuck I don't even care if you have shoko tell me you’re okay or if you tell gojo I just

Suguru<3: I just need to know you’re okay y/n. 

Suguru<3: how long are you gonna avoid me?

Suguru<3: or avoid class?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

“Can you answer your fucking phone,” Shoko snaps.

You glare at her and instead shut your phone off completely. “There. Happy?”

"No, not at all; I won't be happy till you stop sulking.”

You smile at her condescendingly. "You are so lovely; did you know that?”

She sighs deeply. “Y/N, you’re ignoring Geto because he went on one date.”

“I'm ignoring him because I'm in love with him.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “And he's supposed to know that how? I'm a hundred percent sure the poor boy has no clue what he did.”

“Shoko, you don't get it! You've never been in love,” you sneer.

“I don't need to be in love to know you're acting stupid.” She shakes her head. “You know what? Ignore him all you want; that's your problem, but you need to go to class; don't throw away your college degree for him.”

You sigh, finally agreeing with her on at least one thing. “Yeah... Yeah, I know I'll go tomorrow.”

She nods happily. “Good. Now can I get back to studying?”

“I'm not the one who made you stop, you took that upon yourself.”

“Watch yourself; I'll walk my ass straight to Geto's dorm and tell him for you.”

“…Sorry”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You get to class the next day extremely early and take a seat in the far back, away from everyone else, hoping Suguru would somehow not see you, or maybe more like in hopes you wouldn’t see him. It doesn't work. The minute he walks in, his eyes are drawn to yours like there was an invisible string there tying him directly to you, and your stomach twists as you see him approach you. As he’s approaching you, he sees your face, and he sees how you look like you're five seconds away from vomiting up everything you’ve ever eaten since you were born, so he stops in his tracks. Besides, a confrontation in the middle of class wouldn't be a good idea either way, so he’ll just catch you after class.

That somehow proves to be much harder than it should have been because once class ends and he turns around to catch you before you leave, you're already gone. He blinks incredulously at your empty seat for a moment before snapping out of it and running out into the halls, trying to find you among the crowd of people, which is easy for him considering you're the only thing that exists to Suguru right now and pretty much always, but even despite that, he can't find you. He stands in the hall, watching people pass him by as he does nothing, and the only thing he can hear is his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the rain that suddenly started sometime during all of this.

He finally snaps out of it once more and realizes that since it randomly started raining, there's a chance that you're somewhere waiting the rain out, unless you are so dead set on avoiding him that you don't care in the first place and walk back to your dorm in the rain anyway... Suguru hopes he's right as he starts walking toward the exit, and exhales heavily in relief when he sees you out on the porch and slowly creeps up behind you.

“Did you know it was gonna rain?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. “No.”

Suguru’s heart feels like it's about to burst right out of his chest, and he feels like it's been way too long since he's heard your voice. “I think Gojo is gonna bring me an umbrella; do you wanna wait with me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shake your head and start walking out into the rain, but you don't get far when Suguru reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Wait!”

You look back at him, your jaw clenched tight. “Let go of me, Suguru.”

“You’ll get sick.”

You yank your wrist out of his grasp. “I don't care; I want to go back to my dorm.”

For a few moments, Suguru feels stuck in place as he watches you begin to walk away, yet everything in his being is screaming at him to go after you, to not let you go. He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath this whole time until he gasps for air, and at the same time, his body finally decides to align with his mind, and he runs after you. You can hear his foot steps pattering against puddles, which only makes you speed up your walking.

Suguru notices this, and although he's still chasing after you, he decides to call out a pained, “Why are you ignoring me?”

You almost don't even hear him over how loud the rain has grown.

Almost.

“I'm not ignoring you, Suguru,” you say, stopping in your tracks with a deep sigh. He’ll catch you sooner or later, so maybe it's best to just get it over with.

Suguru doesn’t say anything until he's right behind you. You can hear just how clearly his voice trembles as he says, “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I'm no-“

“What the fuck happened? What are you doing?” and although he sounded exasperated only a second ago, when he speaks again, it's horrifyingly subdued: “This—this isn't us.”

You whip around to face him, a scowl on your face as you fume, “There is no us.”

Suguru’s face goes blank. No us? That's not right. That's all there is. There's only ever been an us because Suguru is not him without you. It's never just Suguru. It's you and Suguru; it's him and you; there's no him without you.

“What?”

“There is no us, Suguru; that's—“ you say, gesturing in little circles with your hands in front of you, trying to act out whatever word you're looking for. “That's the fucking problem.”

“I don't—“ His voice is breathy as he shakes his head in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“No,” he says sternly, "No, I don't. I need to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rain falling against your face rather than the words coming out of your mouth: “I'm in love with you.”

The silence is suffocating, and you're violently aware of how you can feel Suguru’s eyes burning holes into you. You swallow harshly before peeking your eyes open, and he’s just standing there wide-eyed, his jaw slack.

“Suguru?”

“Why now?”

With his voice so small and brittle, you hardly even heard him.

“Huh?”

“Why now?” he repeats, this time louder, harsher.

“I don't—I don't understand?”

Suguru laughs in disbelief. He brings his hands up to cover his face, and he just laughs into them or cries; he's not even quite sure anymore. And after a few moments of this, he finally takes a deep breath, running one hand down his face as the other drops back to his side. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with you, Y/N?”

“What?” You’re hopeful for a moment, but that all comes quickly crashing down, realization washing over you. “Wait, but you went on a date.”

“Y/N, it's been so long that Gojo got tired of me wallowing in my own self-pity every time you went on a date.” He sighs and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “So he forced me to go on one too to try and help me move on.”

“Why didn't you wait for me?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Suguru doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head. “No, I know, but I don't understand.”

Your face scrunches up in disdain, silently reading—what's there to not understand? “Why didn't you wait for me to fall in love with you?”

“Y/N, do you even hear what you're saying right now?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear what I'm saying? All I've ever fucking done was wait for you, and I go on one date that I left early for you, and now I'm the bad guy?”

Your heart sinks like a bag of rocks into a deep body of water. “No wait, Suguru, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”

Suguru looks down, avoiding your stare, carefully tapping a puddle with the tip of his shoe as he mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Do-“ you stop yourself and swallow harshly before continuing, “Are you still in love with me?”

He stays silent, and embarrassment floods your bones. How could he still love you? You, who's been subconsciously dangling a treat in front of him like some kind of animal just to coax him into doing what you want, into staying with you, following you around, just because you were too out of touch to realize you even liked him in the first place. Of course, he wouldn't still love you.

“Of course I am. Don't be silly,” he reluctantly admits.

Relief washes over you, and the breath you take feels like the first one you've taken since Tuesday, when he told you about his date in the first place. “So... now what?”

The same relief does not wash over Suguru; in fact, he's feeling anything but relief. Too many things to name, to pin point; it's just all too much. This is just too much. “I need space; I can't—" he shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I can't do this right now.”

“What?”

“I just. I can't. I'm sorry.”

Your voice cracks, “But-“

“I just need to think about this,” he says, waving his hands around in small circles, referencing the two of you.

“Oh.” You take a step back and nod. “Okay. I'll go then... I love you, Suguru.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Suguru watches you walk away, and he can't tell his tears apart from the rain; can’t tell if his heart is stopping or if it's racing; can't tell if he's breathing or suffocating; he can't tell anything. His surroundings are drowning out and blurring into vague shapes and figures around him, and Suguru is sure he could just drop dead right then and there.

“Jeez, I didn't take that long that you had to walk out in the rain, dramatic much?”

Suguru, in all honesty, didn’t hear a word that was just said; the only thing that caught his attention was the lack of rain hitting him. He looks up to find an umbrella there instead of the dark cloudy sky that resembled his insides a little too much, then looks to his side to find Gojo there, and he wants to wipe the stupid grin off his face. If he can't be happy, why should Gojo? His head drops in defeat at his own thoughts. God, he’s acting shitty.

“Sorry.”

Gojo looks at him curiously. “You good?”

“No. No, I'm not good.”

"Hey dude, what's wrong?”

Suguru lets out a harsh laugh, and with no rain hitting him anymore, he knows for sure the thing dripping down his face is tears. “I fucked up.“

Gojo scans Suguru’s face frantically, looking for something—anything—that will tell him what's wrong with his best friend.

“Suguru, you have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Y/N loves me back.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed, and he gives a confused smile because how could this warrant his friend’s reaction? “What dude, that's gr-“

Suguru quickly cuts him off: "Great, I know, but I told them to give me space, Gojo.”

Frankly, Gojo isn't even worried anymore; he’s just in complete disbelief, shouting, “What? Why the hell would you do that?! Are you stupid?”

“Maybe!” he shouts back, trembling. “I don't know! They just— They went on about how I should've waited for them, and I was mad because that's all I've ever fucking done. I don't know; I wasn't thinking straight, and I fucked up, and they left. I made them leave. I asked for space when I hated all the space we've had from each other this whole week, and I asked for more?” He repeatedly hits his forehead with his palm, muttering, “I'm an idiot, fuck.“

“Suguru.”

“What?”

Gojo tilts his head at him. “Why are you still here?”

The question stills his movements, his hand falling back to his side, and he stares at Gojo in pure confusion. “What?”

“You obviously know that space isn't what you want, and you just said it in the heat of the moment, so why are you still here?”

Suguru is silent.

“Why aren't you running after them? They want you, dude! And you want them too!”

Suguru thinks if it weren’t for Gojo constantly moving, he'd think time had completely stopped in time with his realization on how he’s a complete moron.

“Suguru.”

Suguru sighs. “I hate when you're right; you know that?”

Gojo perks up knowing that he got through to Suguru; he coos sing-song, “If that were true, you'd hate me all the time.”

Suguru nods, “I do.”

“Oh, shut up." Gojo extends the handle of his umbrella toward Suguru. “Do you want my umbrella?”

“No, it’s fine; I’m already wet,” Suguru says, looking down at his soaked clothes as he wipes any remaining tears away. “What’s a little bit more water?”

“Good luck, Suguru.”

“Thanks Gojo.”

☆☆☆☆

You walk into your dorm slowly, in a daze-like state. Honestly, you don't even remember walking here; you just remember your fight? confession? argument? — your something with Suguru, and then there's a lapse in your memory, and now you're here.

“Y/N, dude, you're getting water everywhere.“

You sniffle and look down at the puddle that's forming underneath you. “Sorry.”

Shoko tentatively stands up from her bed and cranes her neck down to try and look at your face. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You look up at her with a wobbly smile. “I confessed.”

She looks at you blankly, unsure if she should say something or if you are.

“He asked for space.”

“He likes you, and he asked for space?”

“I didn't tell you that—“

“It's obvious; keep up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, so he asked for space?”

You nod blankly. “Uh huh.”

“Why?”

You rub your eyes in hopes that not looking at Shoko will make the embarrassment lessen. “I said some things in the heat of the moment, and... and yeah.”

It doesn’t.

She’s strangely unfazed; in fact, if anything, she’s partially annoyed. “Ok, and you’re just going to listen to him?”

“What else am I supposed to do, Shoko?” you ask incredulously, glaring at her with your hands back at your sides.

“Fight for him? He likes you back, and if you said something in the heat of the moment, odds are that him asking for space was also just in the heat of the moment.”

“You weren't there, Shoko. You didn't see how he was looking at me—at how he said it.”

“Y/N,” she says disappointedly, eyes shut and pinching her nose bridge. “He's literally been so upset at you ignoring him these past few days; do you really think he meant it when he asked for space? Even more space?”

You blink at her, your mind gone blank.

“Look, maybe he did, yeah? But maybe he didn't, and you won't know unless you go fight for him.”

“I don't know Shoko,” you mumble skeptically.

She rolls her eyes as she rebuts, "At the very least, you can apologize for what you said.”

“I already did.”

“Again, this time now that your head is… somewhat clearer... Are you really just gonna let him get away like this?”

“…no,” you answer weakly, which isn’t good enough for you or Shoko, who’s looking at you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “No,” you say again, this time with true conviction behind your words—word. “I don't want to let him get away like this. I don't want it to end like this.”

She gestures toward the door with a small, proud smile on her face. “Then go.”

You look back at the door before looking back at her and nodding. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Uh huh,” she says, starting to walk back toward her bed, “and when you come back, you better not make another puddle.”

“No promises.”

☆☆☆☆

In an attempt to save whatever dignity you have left, you decide not to run down the halls like a shitty rom-com cliché; instead, you speed walk. Which, in hindsight, is probably even more embarrassing than just full-sending it by running, but you digress. You barely get halfway down the hall when you see Suguru. Both of you make eye contact at the same time, yet neither of you stop making your way toward each other, but you both slow down, carefully walking toward each other like two predators about to attack.

“You're leaving puddles in the hall,” you say quietly now that the two of you have come to a halt right in front of each other.

Suguru nods and looks you up and down. “So are you.”

You both stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. Allowing your presence to speak for itself, but it's awkward—too awkward—and it feels like your knees are gonna give out on you if you stare at him any longer in silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for you." He shakes his head, ignoring his own answer, like his very words aren't the most important thing to you right now. He came for you. “What are you doing here? I thought you would’ve been in your dorm by now.“

“I was—“ your voice grows quiet, “But I was coming for you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for, Suguru. I shouldn’t have said what I said; that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want space,” he blurts out, hardly acknowledging your apology, which he didn't need in the first place. What he needs is you, and it will always be you.

“You don’t?”

“God no,” he says vehemently. “Space is the last thing I want. I don’t want space from you. I feel like there’s something missing when I’m away from you. How could I ever want space, Y/N?” His voice cracks a little at the end, and it has your heart racing. “I was just mad, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

You have all of these feelings inside you, and you’ve cried enough today to last the rest of your life, so instead you find yourself laughing, and Suguru looks slightly mortified.

“Why are you laughing?”

You laugh some more before trying to catch your breath, and you take a step forward closer toward him as you speak through deep breaths, “I’m just so fucking relieved. I-fuck-I love you, Suguru.”

Suguru closes the space between you two, pulling you into his embrace, and you tuck your face into his shoulder, his cold, damp clothes doing wonders to soothe your now-burning cheeks.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“I think we look stupid standing here soaking wet and hugging...”

“Wanna make ourselves look even stupider by standing here soaking wet and kissing?”

You pull away ever so slightly just to look at him, and he’s staring at you with a smirk, and the longer he waits, the more furious the blush on his cheeks gets, and you can't help but stall your answer even more just for that reason.

“…matter of fact, yes, I do.”

Suguru grins widely but wastes no time connecting your lips together. The kiss is better than you could have ever imagined; it's gentle yet passionate all at once, and it's sloppy because neither of you can fully stop smiling long enough to keep the kisses consistent. And It's everything. He's everything, and you're mad that it even took you this long to realize that in the first place, but at least you don't have to worry about that anymore. Now you just have to worry about the fact that you two will probably end up getting sick from your wet clothes, but that's a problem for after you two stop kissing—if you two ever stop kissing.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[camthecatchameleon]

RE The Witchlight ask post (spoilers for somewhere around episode 40+): Something related to the Jabberwock fight. That tpk was crushing, Nikkie did it so well and I’ve not seen any art for it. There’s so many good moments from it, like:

-Gricko tearfully trying to tell Hootsie it’s okay and to just run somewhere safe and they’ll come get her soon

-Frost literally spending a turn just to beg in tears for the dragon to stop attacking, holy fuck

-Kremy trying to put himself between the Jabberwock and a clearly already dead Gideon

-Hootsie being the last to fall after hearing/seeing her entire family die. Thank the gods she evidently has no memory of that fight

Hope this helps/can kickstart ideas. Your art is awesome!!

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 46 I BELIEVE

that entire episode makes me SO ILL. you’re killing me. while i do wish there was more art for it, i also feel like there’s no good way to really do it justice because its SO PHENOMENAL.

UM SO FUN FACT

I've been floundering whether or not to post about a certain AU I made in which the Jabberwock fight wasn't a dream and they were brought back via fey magics (the King of Hearts needing them to fulfill their deal). Which leads to them each having massive scars from the way they died. SO THIS JUST FINALLY GIVES ME MOTIVATION TO RAMBLE ABOUT THAT YIPPEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways sketch of the jabberwock because THE DESIGN OUGH

[hyunnows]

A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL | YJI

In which Jeongin watches you chase after Seungmin over and over, waiting for his turn to have your heart.

PAIRING(S) | Jeongin x reader, Seungmin x reader

THEMES | angst, fluff, unrequited love (two of them), best friends to lovers, high school!au, best friend!Jeongin, lots of background characters, based on a love so beautiful (inspired by both versions), embarrassing and slightly humiliating scenes, crying, heartbreak

WORD COUNT | 10k+

RATING | pg

NOTE | I’ve been working on this for so long, I don’t even know why it’s taken so long. Literally like a third of Sugar Sugar written in 10x the amount of time. Anyway, I love the dramas this fic is based on (especially the k ver bc the main lead was more likable imo) and I really hope I did this au justice. Alos, its not meant to be a direct copy of the drama, more like inspired by a few episodes/scenes (you'll be able to tell which ones if you've seen either version of the drama). Anyway, I would like to thank my beta reader @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick, thank you so much for your help, I really did find all your feedback useful <33333 i hope you all enjoy this! Love you all, ty for all the support <3 have a great day/night!!

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“Hey, Seungmin~!” you call in a singsong voice, cheeks tinted pink as the tall, quiet boy stares at you nervously. 

“Hey [Y/N]…”

Shuffling closer to his ear, you gesture for him to lean down so the other surrounding students wouldn't hear. When he does, you cup a hand around your mouth and whisper. "I like you,” you giggle softly as you back away from him. 

Seungmin scratches his neck awkwardly. "No offense, but I don't like you…sorry.” His face drops as he rejects you in the kindest, bluntest way. 

“O-oh,” you rub your arms as you giggle again. "It's fine!” This time, your bright smile dims, and nobody notices how it doesn't reach your eyes. 

Nobody other than Jeongin, that is. 

Jeongin can see how there's no crinkle beside your eyes or nose as you play your confession off, laughing with Seungmin in an oddly offbeat way. He notices how your shoulders are slumping more now than when he'd encouraged you to confess, and how your head hangs as you shuffle back over to him. 

“So…?”

You frown, biting your lip to hold back your tears. Jeongin doesn't need any more confirmation than that to pull you into a tight hug. He caresses your head as you blink away your tears, an artificial smile on your lips. "It’s fine, I just have to win him over!” 

He frowns but bites his tongue. You can’t help who you love…

And neither can he.

He sighs, "Okay then, but don't be upset when it doesn't work out,” eliciting a shove from you that makes you smile softly as the light fades back into your eyes. 

——

“…and one teaspoon of pure vanilla extract,” Jeongin finishes reading to you, swinging his legs lazily back and forth as they dangle off the counter. He watches you with adoring eyes as you rush to find the vanilla extract, hastily measuring it and mixing it into the cake batter with big eyes. He pretends you’re his girlfriend, scrambling to make him a treat for a date—but as the tangy citrus scent fills his nostrils, it's hard to stay in his trance. He doesn’t like oranges that much, but Seungmin does—and that’s who the orange upside-down cake is for. 

You spoon the batter in dollops onto the oranges in the cake pan, doing your best to evenly cover them without disturbing their positions too much. And once you’ve smoothed the top—as Jeongin had directed you—you’re baking the cake, pulling it out fifteen minutes later to check its consistency and rotate the pan, fully concentrated on your self-assigned task. 

Jeongin continues his loving gaze, taking in your messy flour-covered bun and shirt, butterflies filling his stomach at the view. Something about the dim, warm lights and your adorably focused pout was making his stomach do flips—although it always did that when he was with you. 

When the first cake burns, he offers to help, smiling dumbly to himself every time your hands accidentally graze each other’s and mixing badly on purpose so you’ll come and help him. It’s a wonder how you manage to miss the endless flat-out doting grins he gives you.

“If you keep putting the icing on my nose, we're going to run out of it for the cake,” you giggle every three words as you swipe it off.

He flashes you his braces, leaning closer to you as he dots another glob onto your nose. "Oops, I did it again,” he teases, not minding what he’s sure is a prominent blush on his cheeks every time you playfully push his chest. 

It's only when you're handing the cake to Seungmin that he wishes the whole scenario had never happened, because you two are blushing, and everyone around you is cooing (although he takes the wish back quickly because it was one of his favorite memories)...before being disappointed when he kindly rejects the cake after a quick spoonful, claiming to be full. 

“I know he just didn't want to embarrass me because I'm a horrible baker, but it still hurts,” you mumble against Jeongin’s shoulder, your thumb tracing the outline of the cake box you'd bought earlier. “It must taste awful…”

Jeongin takes the box from your hands gently, pulling a fork from his pocket—don't ask—and stuffing a large bite into his mouth. Truthfully, it wasn't the worst cake he’s ever tasted, and knowing you made it with your own two hands during that wonderful afternoon with him that ended in cuddling on the couch and watching baking shows… oh, he’s prepared to scarf the whole thing down. 

“It's not bad [Y/N], look,” he says, taking another bite and wiping a bit of the caramel onto your nose fondly like he'd done that afternoon, “If he doesn’t want it, it's his loss.”

You flush as he asks to have the entire cake, and of course, you say yes. Honestly, if Jeongin liked it, that was enough. At least it wasn't going to waste. 

“Hey! Stop putting the cake on my nose!”

——

Your tongue peeks out your mouth as you put all your attention on the beads and clear string in your fingers. “Innie, can you help me pick the bead colors?”

“Sure, but doesn't that take away from you making it?” he says bluntly as he taps his cheek and stares at the different hues of beads organized neatly in Hyunjin’s jewelry-making box. “Red and orange.” His newly freed pearly whites sparkle at you in the natural sunlight. 

You scrunch your nose. “I was thinking of a color palette with more purple tones, y’know, because Min likes purple,” you mumble, unaware of his downturned lips at the mention of the older boy's nickname. 

Nevertheless, he's your best friend, so he thinks hard on what would look good with purple, picking out a dull blue and a brighter one, along with a glittery and a glossy purple, deciding it's all worth it to see your dazzling smile. He carefully picks them out in even groups, holding your hand in his as he pours the beads with his other hand, noticing how your breathing gets caught in your throat for a second when your palms connect. 

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” he whispers, not daring to say it loud enough for you to hear. His eyes disappear in his gleeful expression, his mind in a delightful daze at the thought that maybe he had some effect on you. You wonder if he can see the blush in your cheeks, but shake the thought away when you realize his attention redirected to cutting his own piece of string, picking out pink, blue, and white beads that he laces quickly and strategically. By the time you've managed to thread barely half of your—Seungmin’s—bracelet, Jeongin’s already tying the knot on his. He stretches it gently to check durability, then tugs at your wrist gently to slip it on, a small sun charm dangling from it. 

In reality, he's just not the type to say such things and do such actions at the same time—he’d much rather tease you—so he puts on a fake serious face and shrugs. “It's nothing, I just didn't want you to pick something ugly.”

Your cheeks warm, smacking him as you whine for a moment. You bring your arm to your eyes to admire the pattern, smiling and hugging his neck happily. "You're the best friend I could ask for,” and he grins back, satisfied with the position. 

“You're the best,” he whispers under his breath, quickly making a matching necklace for you to wear. As he pulls the craft onto you, his cheeks warm at the feeling of your neck just grazing his fingertips. 

With a teasing smirk, you eye him happily. “Did you just say something nice to me willingly?” A giggle interrupting you with every other word as his cheeks tint brightly. 

“And it's never happening again.” His face in his hands as he tries to tame the blush on his face. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before you both burst into laughter, you're hopping over to pull at his face-fat teasingly. “You're secretly a sweetheart, aren't you, Yang Jeongin? You probably say nice things in your head all the time,” drawing embarrassed groans and weak attempts at pushing off of him whilst he laughs, blissfully. 

He groans, “I don’t,” trying to sound serious while you pinch at his cheeks.

Your hair perfectly frames your face as it tickles his, an almost halo effect outlining your figure. He doesn't know if it's just him, but all he can see is you, everything else dimmed out into the background as his eyes rest on only you. 

Then you pull away, laughing, with a look he has grown tired of seeing in your eyes when you look at him.

Friendship.

——

You’re bright and bubbly when you slip your gift into Seungmin’s desk, excited to see him sport a [Y/N]-original accessory and hopefully fall for you. 

Unfortunately, fate had another plan.

“Sorry [Y/N], I’m not really a jewelry guy…” Seungmin trails off, handing you back the box you’d given him earlier that day, all the bracelets inside and bundled. He tries to ignore his friend’s snickers, rubbing his neck nervously whilst handing you the small cardboard box, cheeks red in embarrassment.

You take it with two hands, barely gripping it at all with your shaky hands and blurry vision. They were laughing at you, and he didn’t like the bracelets. A quiet, "Oh, o-okay,” is all you manage to get out, biting your lip harshly as you tuck your hard work away. "Sorry.”

Seungmin gives you a guilty smile, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs, giving you an awkward wave, and running back to his group, who tease him loudly about you. He cringes at their jokes, hiding his face from you and walking away.

You think you should be crying by now, seeing as he rejected you, but you’re more ashamed because not only was Seungmin embarrassed by being around you, but his friends seemed to think you were a joke as well. How mortifying.

You hear a shuffling pair of feet approach you before you’re wrapped in the long, strong arms you call home. “They teased him and laughed. Laughed, Jeongin…” your voice shrinking in sadness. You turn to him, eyes watering. "Am I that unlikable?”

Of course, Jeongin tells you no. "You’re the most likable person I know,” in a reassuring, uncharacteristically sweet whisper. You sigh, causing him to hold you tighter to his chest. "They just… they need glasses,” evoking a light snort from you.

Turning into his chest, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing an “Ew,” from Jeongin, although he had been the one to initiate the hug in the first place. You mutter a shut up at his faux disgust. After a tight squeeze, you release him, pulling out the now squished cardboard and handing it to him, a light tint in your cheeks as your hands brush against each other’s. “What’s this?”

“He, um, isn’t into jewelry, so I thought you could have them. They’re too big for my wrist, and I’d hate to waste Hyunjin’s nice beads,” beaming hopefully at him. You open the box, pulling out your favorite and sliding it on Jeongin’s wrist, blind to the pure puppy-love expression the brunet was giving you. Cringing slightly, you frown at the fact that you hadn’t even asked him if he wanted the bracelets. "You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to—”

Before you can pull it off him, he yanks his hand back, holding around the bracelet tightly. There was no way he wasn’t going to wear a bracelet you gave him. Granted, you’d made it with the intention of Seungmin wearing it, but he’d take what he could get. "I-um, I’ll wear it. It’s a neat bracelet,” awkwardly releasing his wrist and dropping it to his side. 

“Neat?”

“Leave me alone. This is why I’m not nice to you,” he mutters, face flushed red.

You feel your heart flutter, but you assume it’s out of general happiness and not the fact that Jeongin wanted what you’d made. It wasn’t as if you wanted Jeongin’s approval or anything—you cared about Seungmin’s because you like him, and you definitely didn’t like Jeongin. 

Then why aren’t you able to stop the way your heart quickens around him these days?

——

Jeongin isn’t the most talkative, especially when it comes to girls. Despite that, here he is, spilling everything he feels about you to Chan and Hyunjin. He’d explained the bracelet when they’d originally asked, and somehow he’d ended up in a rant about how lucky Seungmin was to be the target of all your affection.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Chan asks, confused. Crushes couldn’t be that difficult, it should be even easier when you’re their best friend, right?

Hyunjin stares at Chan dramatically, causing the elder to lift his hands in a sort of confused surrender. "Are you serious? You don’t just tell your best friend of four years—who’s already in love with someone you agreed to help them win over—that you’re in love with them!I swear, it’s like you’ve never read a book.” 

Shrugging in uncertainty, he elaborates his former opinion. "It’s just, this all seems way too serious for a high school crush. And anyway, don’t you tease [Y/N] all the time?” Making Hyunjin roll his eyes.

“It’s his first love, it’s very serious!” Hyunjin argues, sweeping his luscious blond locks to the side. "And he teases her because he likes her! Plus, it’s not like he can stop, and it wouldn’t be weird, he’s always teased her. I’m ninety-eight percent sure she likes it.”

“Okay, since Love Expert Hyunjin seems to have all your answers, I don’t think I’m needed for this anymore,” the shortest sighs, standing from his seat on the bleachers and onto the field for some soccer. Chan may love Jeongin like a brother, but he’s not the best option when it comes to love advice.

Jeongin stares at the field, watching you as you cheered for Seungmin in the street-style free for all soccer game, wishing you were half as enthusiastic when he was participating. “I don’t want to try to win her over or anything, being her friend is enough… I just wish she’d dedicate herself to someone who cares for her at least as much as she does for them. I bet Seungmin doesn’t even know her favorite color…”

Jutting out his bottom lip in a pity-filled pout, Hyunjin soothes his hand on Jeongin’s back, nodding in understanding. "Y’know, she’s really lucky to have someone like you to always be there for her,” and he genuinely means it. He’s seen how gentle Jeongin was with you, even if he used a teasing front because no matter what, Jeongin’s always at your beck and call. You two could have just argued, and Jeongin would be the first to apologize and make sure you were okay, not expecting anything in return. His love was admirable and pure, and you got it all. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Jeongin nods, frowning as you hug Seungmin, making the boy cringe and gently shove you off. He wonders how Seungmin could so easily brush off your love, jealous and wishing you would hug him like that. He might jokingly shout “Yuck!” but he knows he’d hug you back even tighter.

——

“[Y/N], I don’t like you back.” Seungmin didn’t mean to sound so mean, but you’d once again smothered him in front of everyone, flustering him for the last time. Even as you began to tremble and tear up in front of him and everyone else, he stood his ground, keeping a stern face. "I tried really hard to let you down gently, but you seem to have missed the hints. Please stop giving me gifts and hugs and asking me out. I don’t see you that way.”

Blinking back your tears, you nod, hiding your beet red cheeks behind your hair and staring at the ground. Taking back the scarf you’d crocheted with your own two hands, you hug it to your chest, pressing it against your thumping heart in the hopes it would calm down the erratic beating. When that fails, you try to block out the murmurs from bystanders, and run for your home, your safe place.

While your best friend was never keen on you trying to make someone love you back—not when he was waiting patiently in line—he’s never wished you listened to him more than he does now

Jeongin’s surprised to see you outside his door, knowing Seungmin had baseball practice today, and because it was beginning to sprinkle. Regardless of your damp attire, he pulls you inside, hurriedly running to get you a towel. "What are you doing here? It’s starting to rain, and it’s cold as heck out there!” His concern raw, too lazy to try to mask it with a joke. "Are you crying?”

You throw your arms around his neck, cheek pressing against his strong yet soft chest as you nod, your tears dripping into his shirt. “He… he rejected me in front of everyone. He said he didn’t like me that way, and then asked if I would leave him alone. I made a fool of myself,” your words becoming incoherent as you squeak through your snivels. 

He clenches his fist tighter with each weep, and he’s sure that if you weren’t holding him so tightly, Seungmin would be six feet under by now. But since comforting you is more important than whooping some scholar-soccer player—not that he could do much damage, the boy’s six centimeters taller than him and he plays sports—he cradles your head as gently as he can with one hand and pets your hair with the other. “He’s an idiot.”

“No, he’s not, I am. I don’t know why I thought I had a chance…” You sniffle, shaking your head against him.

Jeongin tilts your face up to look at him, frowning at your glistening cheeks and shushing the voice in his head that’s going on about how you somehow managed to look beautiful even though you’re heartbroken. “Don’t say that, you’re amazing,” uncaring about how he’s probably the color of that ugly sweater Seungmin’s older brother somehow managed to rock.

You can’t bring yourself to believe his words completely, but the fondness in his eyes makes you want to because you knew Jeongin wasn’t the type to throw words like that around. Still, you nod, hoping you could one day be worthy of those words. 

——

Jeongin jumps when you slam the papers on his desk in front of him, a bright smile on your lips as you eagerly wait for him to ask you what you’re so excited about. He raises a brow, and you point frantically at the papers. “The school play? What about it?”

“I want to sign up for auditions!” You cheer, making jazz hands at the announcement. “They’ll be doing a romance play based on a student’s submission. I heard it’s really good.” Your best friend gives you a concerned look, forehead creased and mouth pursed. Well, that’s not the reaction you were hoping for when you told him. “Why are you making that face?”

Sighing, the black-haired boy stares up at you. “It’s just… are you sure you want to audition?” When you nod happily, he has no choice but to play the role of supportive best friend. “Okay, I’ll cheer you on.”

Your teacher comes in before you have the chance to elaborate on your idea, scolding you for not being ready for his class and eliciting a bit of laughter from your classmates—minus Jeongin, of course. 

Your teacher seems to be on the same page as you, though, pulling out one of the fliers. “Today we’re holding auditions in the auditorium during lunch, drama period, and after school, as well as staff signups. Anyone who participates in the school play’s production gets extra credit. If you have any questions, see me or the drama teacher after class.”

You shoot Jeongin a knowing look that he returns with a confused pout. He doesn’t know what’s up your sleeve, but he’s sure it’ll end badly somehow. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You definitely had a scheme up your sleeve, and this wasn’t the desired outcome of your plan, but Jeongin wouldn’t necessarily file it as a ‘fail’. 

Originally, you planned on auditioning for the lead female part, while Seungmin would take the lead male, a part that everyone wanted him to play. You two would play as lovers, and eventually Seungmin would fall for you too and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. That was the plan. 

You knew that you needed someone to audition with, since they were allowing pairs to audition, and you already knew Seungmin would most likely refuse to audition with you. That’s why you brought Jeongin along. You hoped they’d see your star talent and recruit you to the cast while telling Jeongin he just didn’t make the cut—which he’d be fine with, once he understood your plan. That’s how everything was supposed to go down. 

And somehow, everything is going according to plan. 

You auditioned with complete confidence, and you did well. Acting’s one of your talents—not that you had an abundance of them, you just had a knack for pretending to be different people and characters—at least, you thought so.

Mr. Kim—the drama teacher—reads the casting aloud, so far, Seungmin got the lead male, Jeongin was cast as a random villager, and now it was your turn. “[Y/N]... you’ll play villager three and be in charge of the music…”

He continues to read out everyone else’s parts, but you can’t hear him. You didn’t get the part? But you did so well, right? Why didn’t they pick you?

Jeongin watches your crestfallen face, sighing inwardly because he knows nothing would be worse for you than watching Seungmin pretend to be utterly in love with another girl. He knows why you didn’t get the part, but he also knows that you put your all into that audition because you wanted to be Seungmin’s partner, so he feels bad. After all, his feelings for you only made him wish for you to be happy, and being the lead would’ve made you happy. Still, he can’t help the tiny bit of relief he feels because you won’t be playing the part of Seungmin’s lover. 

Someone hands you a recorder, you don't know who, as well as a sheet with different sound effects and songs for you to gather listed. Great. Not only do you play an unimportant side character, you're also in charge of putting together the romantic soundtrack and sound effects. Why did these things always happen to you?

“Don't worry [Y/N], we can have fun getting the songs and music together.” Jeongin smiles comfortingly, just enough to ease your stress, but you’re still upset at today’s outcome. Sensing the irritation in your stature—the way you furrow your brows and chew your nails are dead giveaways—the boy sighs, pulli by you along with him to collect a script. “Besides, it’s not the end of the world, there will be another play in a few months anyway.”

You nod, but honestly, you’re too bummed to pay him any real attention right now. Jeongin, sighing inaudibly, picks up your backpacks and pulls your sulking figure along towards the school’s exit. 

Pouting, you lean your head on his shoulder. “I thought I did so well…” 

The brunet ruffles your hair affectionately, giving you a small smile. “You did, it’s their loss they didn’t pick you.” His words make your lips quirk up. 

Turning to face him, you lift a brow at him. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Carry your own bag,” he mumbles, handing over your backpack with an amused grin dancing in his lips. 

You pout again, only this time there’s joy in your eyes instead of disappointment. 

Something about that smile makes you feel better.

——

“You must tread into the woods, find your true love, and ask for her hand. She’s who you belong with, your hearts destined to become one. Now forget about that other miller’s daughter and begin the journey!” You read, trying to put some sort of passion into your voice, but you can’t. The only lines you have pertain to Seungmin finding his love and marrying her, while forgetting about the poor second lead who you couldn’t help but relate to. And just to rub salt in your wound, you have the golden line. “Kiss her, and make her your wife. You have my blessing, to have a long, lovely marriage and life.”

Jeongin claps for you from your bed, his long limbs sprawled across the mattress. He doesn’t have any lines other than quiet repetitions of your words—for dramatic effect, but he doesn’t care too much for them anyway. Extra credit is extra credit, right? “That was great [Y/N], but you really should start recording the sounds and music. They’re going to want them for rehearsals.”

You slump, nodding. You needed to recreate horseshoes hitting the ground, birds chirping, water running and the crumpling of leaves, and then download the songs the production team had already chosen. How fun. 

“Jeongin, grab those rocks and that rug for me please.” He nods, reaching for the two large stones as you start muttering, upset. “Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” You groan more, shutting up only to record the rocks hitting the rug in an offbeat pattern to mimic horse hooves. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, because you only have to encourage Seungmin’s character, while he has to support you every time you scheme to get the older boy to fall for you. It shouldn’t be a competition, but he can’t help but feel that his situation is a tad worse.

——

“[Y/N], where’s the audio recording? We need it now!” Hana, the girl in charge of putting the music and sound over the play, calls urgently. The play’s about to start, and because of your constant sulking, you only just finished recording everything. 

Luckily you still have about ten minutes before the play begins, so you’re safe from being scolded. “Sorry, here it is.”

She takes it from you happily, readying it in a way you don’t exactly understand—hence why you aren’t one of the techs—and sending you off to get into your costume. 

The play’s going smoothly, everything’s in order and running perfectly. You’ve said your lines, Jeongin’s said his and Seungmin is absolutely killing his role. And then your voice booms through the speakers. 

“Why do I have to bless their union though? Out of every part I could’ve gotten, I had to get the part where I encouraged Seungmin to marry another girl…” 

The familiar statement falls upon the crowds shocked ears, and you feel all color drain from your face. That…that recorded…?

Your drama teacher glares at you, murder bright in their eyes. You can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. 

The crowd erupts into laughter and boos when the echoes of your words finally fade from the auditorium. All the staff and students behind the curtains are staring at you, some pitying, others angry and some disappointed. But that isn’t the worst of it. 

Someone in the audience spots you hiding behind the curtain on the east wing, “Hey! [Y/N] that was you, wasn’t it? You must really be in love with Seungmin, huh?”

You loudly shush him, hoping he’ll stop and the play will continue peacefully, but the odds aren’t in your favor. Someone behind you shoves you onto the stage, and you’re suddenly in the spotlight, frozen in front of dozens of people laughing. Your friends and teachers stifflong their giggles at your pathetically embarrassed state. 

You want to stand up for yourself, tell them to shut up and put their pointing hands away but you’re too mortified to do anything as a stray tear escapes your eye and your lip trembles. You’re hardly able to scramble off stage, muttering dozens of apologies to everyone watching. 

It’s hard to even be upset when all your mind can think of is Seungmin’s face of embarrassment—shame, because of you. 

It’s not long after the fiasco Jeongin finds you crying in a storage closet, and he shoos off some students who are teasing you far too much for his liking. 

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He asks gently, kneeling in front of you to see your face that’s hidden in your knees. You nod, burying it further and wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. He can’t help but think you look adorable so small, but he’s more focused on comforting you. 

Pulling off his jacket—he remembers how much you always say you love his clothes—and taps you with it. You don’t notice at first, but after he pushes it against your shoulder a few more times, you slowly peel yourself out of your [Y/N]-cocoon. Your face instantly lights up, just a bit when you catch sight of his jacket and you don’t hesitate to wrap yourself in it and scoot over for him to seat himself beside you on the step stool. 

He takes the spot, and you immediately lean on his shoulder as his large, lanky arm wraps around you in a comforting embrace. “You wanna talk or just stay here quietly a bit longer?”

“Just stay quiet for a bit…” your shaky voice mutters, heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. 

The storage closet opens again, only this time Seungmin stands in the doorway, face blank and eyes void of anything other than disappointment. 

He lets out a deep sigh before mumbling quietly. “Why do you ruin everything? Couldn’t you put your feelings aside for once and get your job done once? You embarrassed us both, all because you have a stupid crush on me. I told you I’m not interested, get over it, please.”

Jeongin’s about to open his mouth, fed up with Seungmin’s ass of an attitude toward you when you kick the door closed, shoving Seungmin out so you can sob into the younger boy’s sleeves in peace. You don’t want to see him, not now. You don’t really want to see anyone.

Except Jeongin.

——

“You need to apologize to her,” the shorter male demands, feet making squishy sounds with every step from the wet grass he chased Seungmin through. Jeongin may not always be the most affectionate or sweet friend, but he’s your best friend for a reason and he’s determined to keep you happy at all costs. Which includes making Seungmin apologize for his harsh words after the play. 

The older boy rolls his eyes. “Why should I? I was giving honest, helpful criticism. Plus, she’ll get over me faster if she hates me.”

Jeongin has no clue why you like him so much. 

Seungmin seems just about done with this conversation, turning to walk away, when he hears Jeongin huff under his breath. “And here [Y/N] said she liked you for your kindness. I don’t know where she got that idea from, you’re obviously a jerk…”

Seungmin doesn’t care about people’s opinions of him, but something about Jeongin’s word choice (specifically the word jerk) strikes a chord in him. . 

Which is how he finds himself in front of your door, Jeongin beside him with a semi-smug look as the older boy knocks on your door. 

“Who—Seungmin…? What-what’re you doing here…?” You shrink slowly, not in the mood for more insults. Not to mention that you’re just a bit traumatized from last week’s fiasco and that you’ve been skipping school to avoid the mental and emotional torment you’re sure is to come. 

He feels genuinely bad when he notices the tremble in your lip whilst you slide the door closed just a bit more to hide behind it. Handing you an envelope, he bows. “I’m sorry about what I said [Y/N]. I didn’t mean to be so rude and insensitive. There’s a longer apology in the envelope, feel free to read it or throw it away. Have a good night and come back to school soon. All of your classmates miss you.”

You doubt that last statement a bit. As far as you know, the whole school hates you, but you appreciate the idea that someone missed your presence. You give Seungmin a small bow and mouthed thank you just before he leaves. For the first time, you think he genuinely smiles at you. It's small, but real.

Rushing Jeongin inside, you melt against the door, clutching the envelope to your chest. “Did Kim Seungmin just… apologize to me…?”

In all the years you’ve known Seungmin, he’s never been one to apologize. He’s usually not in the wrong, so most of the time there’s no need for him to. Still, on the rare occasion he is on the wrong side, he almost never takes the initiative to own up to his mistakes. He’d much rather let time do its thing and wait for the incident to blow over and be forgotten. 

So you can’t help but feel both shocked and even a bit special to have a written apology from the brown eyed golden boy. 

Jeongin nods triumphantly. “Yep.” He wants to tell you that he’s the reason behind this, but he can’t ruin the way you must be feeling. If thinking Seungmin apologized completely of his own accord made you happy, then he’d allow you to believe that. 

As long as you’re happy, Jeongin doesn’t really care about anything else. 

However there are times when he wishes he could put his own feelings first.  

Slowly since the play, Seungmin had accidentally begun to sneak into your friend group. Suddenly he hangs out with you and Jeongin during lunch. He’s in the library with the two of you, making sure you’re actually studying. He’s even invited the two of you out to eat and hang out a few times over the past three months. It should be odd—the way he wormed into your group, but it happened so gradually that by the time either of you had noticed, he’d become part of your duo-now-trio. 

So it’s only natural that when your annual trip to Chan’s lake house rolls around, you invite him. 

While Jeongin’s fine with Seungmin—there are times where they seem to have been best friends since birth—he can’t help but feel almost possessive of the time he’s supposed to have with you. As much as he hates it, he knows Seungmin will effortlessly steal that time from him. 

“So you’ll come?” You giddily ask the taller boy, bouncing on the heels of your feet. 

Please say no. Please, please, please say no. For once, Jeongin wants Seungmin to reject you, wholeheartedly too. You do it all the time, don’t make this different!

The older boy thinks for a moment, typing something into his phone a moment before it lights up again, and nods silently with a small, almost unnoticeable grin. Flashing his screen, Jeongin realizes he’d been asking permission—which unfortunately, he was given. 

Fantastic. 

Don’t be fooled, since the incident, Jeongin has come to find that Seungmin is actually a great guy and wonderful company that he thoroughly enjoys on most occasions. They’ve completely warmed up to each other. But he knows that you’re still utterly in love with Seungmin, maybe even more than before, and he doesn’t think he can stand being around you two in a casual setting for more than a few hours. 

Still, he bites his tongue. If you’re happy, he’s happy. 

At least that’s what he tells himself during the car ride whilst you stare in awe at the older boy for most of the ride, trying and managing to convince him to let you sleep on his broad shoulder. He repeats this in his head over and over during the board games you all play where you beg Seungmin to let you be in his team—which he grants you after a bit of friendly teasing. By dinner time Jeongin has a headache from the mantra, almost disgusted by just watching you feed the sophomore by spoonfuls. He’s ready for bed before nine-thirty. 

However, his plans for sleeping—and evading Seungmin and you—are halted when Minho—a mischievous friend of Chan’s—decides to play some party games. You all play twenty questions, an age-appropriate few rounds of never have I ever (Chan and Hyunjin would have your heads if you or Jeongin were exposed to any sort of adult materia) and now you’re playing a game of secrets. 

Everyone gets a strip of paper and a pencil for them to write their secret on. Once everyone’s done, the strips are put in a bowl, mixed around, and picked out at random. You can’t tell anyone what you wrote or picked from the bowl, regardless if it's your own secret. 

Somehow it’s simultaneously harmless and filled with potential drama. You give props to Jisung (Minho and Hyunjin’s friend) for bringing up the game, so long as you pick Seungmin’s secret. 

Though it’s not exactly a secret, you haven’t confessed to Seungmin since before the incident, and you think you’ve been subtle about your feelings since then, so you pick that as your secret. In your tidy handwriting, you spell out “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin.”

Beside you, Jeongin contemplates what he wants to write for a moment longer than you do. He can reveal anything he’d like. That he’s jealous of Hyunjin’s height, that he actually looks up to Changbin more than he’d like to admit, that he failed his last English quiz, or that…

He likes you as something way more than friends. 

He’s sure about half of his friends already know, and that Seungmin is probably suspicious of it, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. And plus, they’re anonymous… So what's the harm?

He ponders his decision a bit more, before essentially saying fuck it and professing his feelings for you with a short, “I have a crush on [Y/N].”

After about another minute or so, all the paper strips are stuffed into a glass bowl Jeongin thinks looks an awful lot like a fishbowl, and mixed around violently by Han. Then, everyone reaches in and pulls out one strip each. 

You can’t contain your curiosity, immediately unfolding the strip and reading its contents. Your eyes widen and you struggle to hold in your gasp of disbelief. 

Your cheeks burn as you reread the sentence. “I have a crush on [Y/N].” 

Too focused on the secret you picked, you fail to see how Jeongin’s soft smile of excitement falters into a slight frown. Your handwriting spells out: “I’m in love with Kim Seungmin '' on the slip of paper in his hand.

After he’s done reading his strip, Hyunjin reminds you of the rules. “Okay, nobody can say anything about the secret they got, okay?”

You all nod, but your eyes gravitate to Seungmin, who seems oddly calm compared to the rest of you. You don’t blame him, he probably got something boring—or your confession. The only reason you’re so excited is that you’re pretty sure you got his proclamation of love. 

Yet, in the back of your mind, I can't help but think that the handwriting doesn’t look like Seungmin’s.

——

“I got my own,” Seungmin pulls out the piece of paper from his backpack, handing it over to you with a shrug. “Why?”

As you read “I’m tired of school” in Seungmin’s handwriting, your brain strains to find an explanation as to why you just convinced Seungmin to break the game’s rules and show you his secret. I thought… “Oh, I was just curious!”

As always, he shrugs it off. 

If it wasn’t Seungmin… then who was it? It couldn’t be Chan, he’s too brotherly, and Hyunjin is always talking about who he’s in love with that week, you would know if it was him. Which leaves you with only one person you can think of. 

Jeongin. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t be mad if Jeongin had a crush on you. But if he did, you couldn’t return his feelings.

Right?

You think back to all those times your eyes have locked with his, when you’ve ignored the pounding in your heart at the slightest graze of his touch. You can’t deny he’s the one who can always make you feel better, no matter what. That you would rather sit and argue with him then go have fun with someone else. 

To be honest, you can’t exactly say you’re not in the same boat.

But, he’s your best friend, he couldn’t have a crush on you. You flush as you try to reason with yourself. There’s just no way. Plus he likes—

You stop. Come to think of it, you’ve never known Jeongin to have a crush on anyone. He’s never once confided in you about girls. “Maybe he just doesn’t like anyone…” you mumble, thinking of reasons why he can’t possibly have a crush on you. 

“Who doesn’t like anyone?”

You jump at the sound of Jeongin’s voice. “N-nobody!” you internally slap yourself at your stuttering. 

He doesn’t seem convinced, but opts for being concerned more than curious, “Why are you so jumpy?”

“I-I’m not,” you protest, trying to sound calmer. It seems to fail though, since he quirks his brow in confusion at you. 

With a shrug, he continues walking beside you towards your house. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re mean,” you scoff, immediately forgetting why you had–in fact–been so jumpy only moments before. However, it's not too long before you are reminded of your tiny predicament when his eyes sparkle in amusement and your heart stops momentarily. “Hey Jeongin, what secret did you pick from the game the other day?”

You notice him slump over a bit, “I got yours. Unless someone else in our group has a crush on Seungmin,” the glint in his eye diminishes. “Why?”

“It's just… I think I got your secret…” He freezes up besides you, a tinge of pink in his cheeks you fail to see as you stair at your toes. “Do you have a crush on me, Jeongin?”

Clenching his jaw a few times, he panics. Think brain, think. He stands there awkwardly for a moment. “I-”

Cutting him off, you start apologizing, “You don’t have to answer that, actually. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot–I get it if you’re mad at me too, since you know I like Seungmin–” Some quiet chuckles leave his lips, making you stop in the middle of your words, confused. “Why are you laughing?”

He ruffles your hair, pushing you playfully. “You think I would write a real secret there? No way. I just thought it would be funny if Hyunjin were to get that one and start some rumor or crazy quest to find out which one of us had a crush on you.” 

Your shoulders drop from their tensed position as you relax, beginning to giggle a bit at the thought of the gossiping teen losing his head in order to find out just who had a crush on you/ Even if you didn’t know him well, everyone knew Hyunjin was a huge drama queen who always needed to know everything about everyone. “Oh that makes so much more sense!”

Ignoring the pain in his chest that your apparent relief brings him, he keeps his small smile displayed for you. “So that's why you were all anxious. You’re so odd, [Y/N].”

You glare at him, pushing his shoulders jokingly. “You really are mean, you know that?” Eliciting a gentle laugh from the boy. He shrugs, continuing his path beside you to what he assumes is your home. 

He can’t help but wish he had written something different on that paper, though. Maybe then, his chest wouldn’t ache so much. 

And secretly, you wish it was a real secret. Maybe then, you wouldn’t feel like you’d been tricked.

—-

Jeongin finds it hard not to notice the way you’ve started retreating from Seungmin these days. As your best friend, the one who was always there to help you in your plans to win over the upperclassmen, it's impossible to not realize how you haven’t asked for his aid in such schemes. It's almost concerning at this point, the way you haven’t attempted in a month or so to woo the older boy in any way. 

He doesn’t mind though, not at all. In fact, he’s enjoying watching you spend your time on your hobbies and making new friends rather than pining over the boy who had broken your heart so many times.

“Hey, can you help me take these papers to Mr. Young’s classroom?” Seungmin stops at your desk, staring at you. 

Since finding out the paper wasn’t Seungmin’s, your feelings for him have slowly dimmed. Over the last few weeks, everything you felt for him just dissipated. He doesn’t like you back, and now, for some reason, you don’t seem to care too much about who or what he likes anymore. 

However, that doesn’t mean your attention hasn’t shifted somewhere else.

“I’ll help.” 

Your head shoots up to look at Jeongin, who’s already standing up and grabbing half the stack of papers, bringing the rest of Seugnmin’s face into view. “Can you watch my food for me?”

You nod at him as he walks out of the cafeteria with Seungmin. The silence between them is awkward, but not too awkward. They enjoy each other’s company enough to get along. However, with your odd behavior towards Seungmin, the two haven’t hung out much. 

The walk is quiet for a while, until Seungmin says, “Why did you stop [Y/N] from answering me?”

Jeongin shrugs, “She didn’t look like she wanted to. Why? Do you like her now?” he says less than playfully, failing to hide his disapproval if Seungmin did indeed like you now.

“No, I don’t like her like that. I was just wondering if you were trying to keep her away from me since you like her,” the older boy tells him nonchalantly. 

Jeongin almost drops his stack of papers at that, “What?”

With a slight eye roll, Seungmin continues. “You like [Y/N], don't you? Even if you say no, or don’t answer, I know you do. It's obvious. It is kind of weird you helped her ask me out so many times though.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Right,” the older boy sighs, “We’re here.”

After dropping off the papers, the two have a silent walk back, both of them uncomfortable with the energy in the hall. Jeongin couldn’t stand the thought of Seungmin playing with your heart, not again. 

Before the two reenter the cafeteria, Seungmin places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder, holding him to a stop. With a sigh, Seungmin starts, “I consider us friends, and as a friend, I’m rooting for you. [Y/N] was never right for me, and I was never right for her, but I think you two would be right for each other.”

The older boy releases him, pushing through the metal doors and joining your small circle, leaving Jeongin with his thoughts.

And his thoughts agree with Seungmin.

—-

“Did you hear? The school chose another romance novel to base the play off of!” You cheer in excitement as you set your school bag under your seat. “Maybe I can get the lead this time, I think I’ve improved a lot since last time.”

Jeongin looks at you as if you’ve grown a third head, plopping down into his own desk. “Why do you want the lead? Do you think Seungmin is going to play the male interest?”

He ignores the little green monster that rages at the thought. 

“What? No, I just want to be the lead, maybe redeem myself since last time I messed up so bad,” you flush. “Hey, you should audition too! It would be cool if we were both in the play!”

“I don’t think so, I’m not really into acting.”

You pout at him, shaking his arm as you plead, “Please Jeongin, please please please–”

“Fine! Stop whining like that,” he huffs, pulling his arm away from you. You gleam at him, making him roll his eyes with a gentle smile. “What a dork.”

You stop smiling at that, launching towards him, “You jerk!”

Just then, Ms. Lee walks in, a scowl on her face at your figure lurched over Jeongin’s desk. “[Y/N]! Sit down right now young lady!”

You hear your classmates–including Jeongin–snicker at you. He makes an L with his fingers under the desk at you, making you glare at him. Silently, you mouth, I’ll get you back for this.

He mouths back, Sure you will, like the menace he is.

Once again, reading your mind, your teacher begins the class announcements with the play. “We’re holding auditions later today in the gym during your lunch period and after school. Please feel free to audition, those who do will be exempt from the next pop quiz.”

Jeongin watches from the corner of his eye as you hunch over your desk, scribbling something down, then pop up again. Snapping, you get him to look over at you and see the message written messily on your notebook. “You could really use an exemption from a pop quiz…”

He sighs, grabbing a sticky note from his notepad, and writing back, “I already said yes, stop bugging me.” (He doesn’t actually want you to stop, he would prefer if you never stopped bugging him, actually.)

You stick your tongue out at him with a grin, turning back to face the teacher.

It's not long after that lunch time rolls around, meaning you’re dragging Jeongin away from his friends.

 “Where are you two going?” Hyunjin asks, a far too devious smile playing on his lips.

“We’re auditioning for the play!” You smile, to which the older boy’s eyes sparkle. 

“I wanna watch!”

Jeongin groans at the three voices, he really doesn’t need Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all watch him embarrass himself. “Too bad. If you guys come I won’t audition.” At that, they all groan, sitting back down on the lunch bench with frowns on their faces. 

——

“Jeongin, I got the part~!” You all but sing, looking at your lines highlighted in the script. “How about you?”

He purses his lips, ears slightly red. “They gave me the lead.”

You stop in your place, staring at him wide eyed. “You mean, we’re going to play lovers?” He nods. “Oh…”

“I can take back my audition if you want–”

“No!” You stop him, a bit too quickly even, “It's fine! It's just acting,” your face as red as his at the thought of playing his love interest. You’re just friends–best friends–and it's just a play, it shouldn’t be that weird. Right?

Wrong. So wrong.

You both can’t help but feel so stiff around each other as you rehearse your lines. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin can’t help but be oh so entertained by your awkwardness. Seeing the two of you bright red as you stumble over your lines to each other is just gold.

“Stop recording us!” You frown with red cheeks at Hyunjin, who’s phone is pretty much inches from your face. “Hyunjin c’mon.”

“No can do, you two are so cute,” he wipes a fake tear, putting a dramatic hand on his chest, “They grow up so fast.”

You all stare at him like a madman. Then, Changbin counts down backwards, yelling action for you and Jeongin to start the scene from where you messed up.

“I can be fun, if you want… pensive, uh, smart, superstitious, brave, and uh, I could be light on my feet,” he pauses, staring at you intensely, a nervous–but sweet–smile dancing on his lips, “I could be whatever you want. You just tell me what you want and I’ll be that for you.”

Jeongin tries not to think about how true that is.

With a lightly contemplative look on your face, you recite the next line. “You’re dumb.”

His smile grows as he nods, “I can be that.”

You mirror his expression as you turn around, skipping away and pretending to get into a car as he calls behind you. “C’mon, one date, what’s it gonna hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” you tease in an almost sing-song tone.

His smile falls a bit, as he stands there looking disappointed, “Well what can I do to change your mind?”

“Guess you’ll figure something out,” you grin, silence filling your ears for a moment before Changbin loudly yells cut!

They all praise you two’s acting skills, Seungmin included–though his praise is much less enthusiastic than that of the others. However, you don’t pay any of them much attention, your gaze fixed on Jeongin as your mind replays the way he’d looked at you just moments before.

You almost wished this wasn’t a play, but try not to think about it too much as you ready for the next scene.

——

You know your best friend is good looking–everyone does, it seems. Every rehearsal, there are students hiding in the back row of the school’s theater trying to catch a glimpse of his acting. You’re thankful for Hyunjin, who dramatically shoos them out of the room whenever he catches them. 

It's not that you don’t want people watching the rehearsal, it's just… 

Why are there so many girls with crushes on Jeongin?

It shouldn’t bother you, really. He’s just your best friend but even he is starting to feel the energy shift whenever someone comes up to talk to him. He doesn’t want to get any ideas, but he doesn’t deprive himself of enjoying your attention. 

He watches as you shuffle over to Hyunjin in exhaustion after thirty minutes of the same scene, laughing as the boy fawns over you theatrically, giving you water and a pillow to get comfortable with. It's comedic the way you two have grown closer recently, Hyunjin seeming to take the role of your mother almost. 

Needing to get away from the dark room and hot stage lights, Jeongin sees himself out, getting a drink from the water fountain. Straightening up, he leans against a post, silently reading over his favorite scene–not that he would ever admit that he had a favorite scene. He can’t help but imagine you telling him what you want in your home, saying you wanted to be a part of his life like that.

Doing this play, it's not good for his heart.

He heads back in for rehearsal not too much later, finding it too easy to get into character. 

Maybe it's the way you look into his eyes as you practice your lines, or how cute you look flustered saying these romantic words to him of all people. Whatever it is, it's really, really not good for his heart.

Or yours.

——

“Hey [Y/N]!” Jeongin calls after you, his jog slowing to a walk as you turn the corner too quickly for him to reach you. It seems this is how you two are now–Jeongin tries to talk to you, you run away from him before he can.

He wonders if it's because of the play–specifically, because of the kiss scenes he’s sure you're dreading. 

He didn’t think you would be so worked up about it–it wouldn’t be your first kiss, or your second, or even third for that matter. But you’ve been avoiding him like the plague since the last time you rehearsed the scene, the two of you staring at each other intently rather than kissing since it was just rehearsal.

Maybe doing this play was a mistake, he thinks, frowning to himself. A few moments later, a large, thin hand rests on his shoulder, and he meets the eyes of his personal cupid, “What do you want?”

“Well that's not how you should greet your big brother,” Hyunjin whines with a pout. He chooses to dismiss the younger boy’s you’re not my big brother, instead opting to talk about the real reason he sprinted after Jeongin. “So, how are you feeling? The play is next week, when you’ll finally kiss your true love.”

The shorter teen chokes on air at Hyunjin’s words, filled with embarrassment. “Be quiet!”

“Sorry! But really, how are you guys? I’ve noticed [Y/N] dodging you like she dodges her vegetables.”

Jeongin shrugs, “I don’t know. I think auditioning was a mistake, it's probably too weird for her, especially since she doesn’t like me like that.” He completely misses the look on Hyunjin’s face, continuing, “I’ll have to apologize after the play I guess.”

The taller boy facepalms, stepping in front of the freshman, “Don’t apologize–it's not your fault. Plus, that’s weird.”

Jeongin wants to argue, but decides against it ultimately, nodding in agreement with Hyunjin’s words. 

——

“What do you want?” Jeongin stares at you intensely, leaning against the cardboard car behind him. “What d’you want?”

You shake your head vigorously, tears in your eyes, “It's not that simple!”

He interrupts you, his voice more stern than the last time he uttered these words to you, “What. Do you. Want?” Lip quivering, you watch him ask you once more. “Damn it, what do you want?”

Eyes filled with emotions and tears, you finally get out a weak, “I have to go.”

The set workers are quick to cover the stage as they change the set to show you talking to your character’s fiance as Jeongin hides off in the wing, watching your incredible performance. He doesn’t know how, but you really did develop a talent for acting since the last play the school put on.

Soon enough, you’re by Jeongin’s side, the two of you watching as the teachers playing the older versions of your character play out their scenes beautifully, bringing everyone–especially Hyunjin–to tears with their performance.

“You did a great job, really,” Jeongin mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear him, but you do.

You grin at him, “Has nice Jeongin finally made a reappearance?” 

“Nevermind, this is why I don’t say nice things to people,” he scowls, turning away from you, only to be stopped by you turning him back to you. “What?”

“Do you want to get something to eat with me after this?”

He’s confused, flustered, and excited if he’s being honest. But he keeps up his nonchalant attitude and nods. “Sure,” fighting the tender expression ghosting his face at your happiness.

After a few minutes of watching the final scenes, everyone emerges from the stage wings, taking their places beside one another, Jeongin and you in the center as the leads. Joining hands, you all bow, taking in the praises from your parents, classmates, and anyone else who watched the play. Then you’re dragging him to your bikes, the two of you freshly out of costume, still sweating from the under-conditioned theater you had just stood in for hours.

 “Do you even know what you want to eat?”

You nod, beginning to pedal down the street towards the small food stand that always lingers by your school–a student favorite. You’ve already ordered two corn dogs, waiting by the stand as Jeongin pulls up. “What are you? Some secret speed cyclist?”

“Maybe,” you hand him his corn dog, “Can we go sit over there?”

He follows your finger to look at a lonely bench underneath a tree that's only a few meters away, a small, dim lightbulb just barely illuminating the area. “Are you sure? What if there are spiders?”

“Stop trying to scare me and move your butt,” you command, strutting forward to the bench. He follows with a sigh, dragging his feet and bike behind you. 

As the two of you eat in silence, Jeongin finds that he doesn’t agree with Hyunjin’s advice once again, speaking up awkwardly. “I’m really sorry if the kissing scenes were weird for you, I tried not to put a lot of pressure or anything into them, if that makes you feel better.”

You cough, laughing at his awkward apology. “It's fine. Don’t worry about it,” your words are muffled by the food in your mouth and your laughter–which triggers some sort of embarrassment in your best friend.

“Why are you laughing at me? I’m obviously nervous and apologizing because I thought that’s why you were avoiding me, and you’re laughing,” he can’t hide the bit of irritation in his voice, or the pink hue covering his face as your laughter grows, “And you’re still laughing. Why are you laughing at me?”

Taking a few deep breaths, you turn to him, “It's just, I was avoiding you because of the kiss scene, but that’s not the only reason why,” a weird grin on your face, “I spent so long, ranting to you about one guy who kept rejecting me, and there I was, unable to face you because we had to kiss for a play. And you’re apologizing for it, even though you didn’t even know if that was why. It’s just really funny seeing how this all turned out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you in a second, if you tell me something first,” you lean towards him, a strange glint in your eye, “Yang Jeongin, do you have a crush on me?”

He starts genuinely tweaking at that, choking on his food, chunks flying out of his mouth from the sheer and utter shock of your question. “What? Why are you asking me that?” He coughs again, his face becoming a shade of red that rivals that of a strawberry, “What the fuck why can’t I stop coughing?”

“I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t think you would start dying if I asked you!” You apologize, rubbing his back and offering the half-drank bottle of water in your bag. “I just needed an answer!”

“Why?”

“Answer and I’ll tell you why!”

“Why do you need to know? You’re so weird sometimes!”

“Jeongin,” you pause, hands on his shoulders as you look him directly in the eye, “Do you like me?”

He avoids your gaze, closing his eyes and mumbling an inaudible yes.

“I can’t hear you~!” He mumbles it slightly louder.

“I still can’t hear you,” you tease, your hands still on his shoulders as you push them back so he has to look at you.

“I’m not doing this. You heard me and you still didn’t tell me,” he groans with a pout in his voice, “And you say I’m the jerk.”

You laugh at his aggravation, finding it hard to take him seriously when he looks like a red crayon threw up on his face. He gets up from the space beside you, sitting on his bike and getting ready to ride home when you come up beside him.

“Hey,” you say quietly, making him look at you. You hold in the urge to laugh at his annoyed expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s obviously fed up with being embarrassed for one night. With all your courage, you whisper, 

“I like you too.”

"I like your eyes, you look away when you pretend not to care  I like the dimples on the corners of the smile that you wear I like you more, the world may know but don't be scared  ‘Cause I'm falling deeper, baby be prepared" ― Translation from Ysabelle's English Cover of "I Like You So Much, You'll Know It"

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[sgtbutterben]

i hope its okay but i did some fanart of @jekyll-doodles 's red lord from the "wakey wakey" au :3! i just love this design sm I hope I did it justice!

[makittuu]

GUYS. GUYS.

I found this amazing fanfiction! It's going to be at the top of my lists for sure. It's a Steven Universe AU fic where an apocalypse takes over the earth; and corrupted gems and Spinel's pain are further explored 🙌

I drew Red, one of the characters from it! I absolutely adore the concept for this character; you should definitely give the story a read to learn more! 🙏 I really hope I did Red justice in my art 💕

Red belongs to @prophet-of-calamity

and here is their fic!👇

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50458486/chapters/127488331

She has a lollipop at one point in the story, so I drew her with a couple hehe!

Also, the writing is very masterfully done; it flows very well, is complex, and it's such a nice read!

FURTHER DISCUSSION, (IF INTERESTED)👇

Going into it, I was a little cautious, as I would be for any fanfic, just because it's about one of my favorite characters. Spinel is so much so one of my favorite characters that I really wanted to like the author's representation of her! It's obviously okay to think about characters however you want to. And to represent them however feels best to you! But going into this, I was really hoping to like the way Spinel was represented by this author! And I left feeling beyond impressed at the way the author handled Spinel's inner thoughts and the way she can be compassionate for others, but also feel trapped and overtaken by her thoughts and pain sometimes. She was never given the chance to fully heal, so it makes sense. And even if she were, she was hurt pretty badly; it's understandable if she never fully, truly and completely stops hurting over it. Healing isn't a linear path, and I think the author did a wonderful job of representing all of this.

AND OMG this story does such a good job of representing other characters in a way that feels so true to them too! Lapis felt so lined up with her character that I could even hear her lines in her voice as I was reading!

The descriptors and imagery throughout are stunning, and done in a way that made me feel fully immersed as I was reading. Even when I left and came back to keep reading, I felt immersed again as I got into it, which is hard for me sometimes.

On top of that, the author found so many clever connectors to link Spinel's character in with other events. I'm very impressed by it, and please go give it a read! <3

There's also a detroit become human reference in chapter two that really struck me, I have not heard that joke in a long time bahahahha 😭

I hope I came off the right way, I absolutely recommend this story! It's not completed just yet, but what's written so far is 100% worth a read all on its own, and it deserves to have a bunch of loyal readers! And it's so beautifully done, I'd still happily recommend it and believe how worth it of a read it is, no matter how long it ends up being in the end! Writing is hard and finding motivation can be difficult at times, and this author has done such an amazing job tackling this project, putting in so much care and developing all the characters so strongly! Even Red is developed so well that she fits in really seamlessly with the official su characters :)

Thank you for making it to the end if you did! :)

[celestialbruise]

Can you give Taxian-jun and Chu-Fei a happy ending in their timeline? ❤️🙏

let me just say I LOVE YOU for this!! this truly feels like fate, because the morning I received this beautiful prompt the first thing I thought of when I woke up was 0.5 ranwan and I spent the entirety of my morning routine thinking about a canon divergent fic where taxian-jun and chu fei get their happy ending then I logged onto Tumblr and found this ask in my inbox :’)

I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and some day I would love to turn it into a fully-realized fic, but the basic premise is a month before Mo Ran lays siege to Taxue palace and Chu Wanning dies, he has a dream detailing the event, every last gory detail. it disturbs Mo Ran so much that he temporarily calls off the plan, and while he’s busy thinking of a way to destroy Xue Meng that won’t have Chu Wanning sacrificing himself, Chu Wanning manages to save him in the interim. 

spoilers past erha volume six ahead!

to be completely honest I don’t know entirely how the flower works (I know about its existence but not much else) but in my head canon, aka for my own personal sanity, I do believe that there is a way for it to be removed, and in this AU Chu Wanning removes it, and though it would take time, and healing, in the 0.5 timeline, they would find their way back to each other, and they would never again part.  

I hope I was able to do your prompt justice, as I truly had such a wonderful time writing this<3

-

In the lonely dark, deep into the night, Taxian-jun woke with a scream trapped in his throat, desperately grasping a body that was no longer in his arms. 

He was alone in his bed. No longer was he laying siege to Taxue Palace, kneeling in the blood-spattered snow, holding a deathly cold, winter-pale Chu Wanning who had whispered….

Who had asked him with his dying breath-

“Mo Ran…forgive yourself.”

Mo Ran tore out of Wushan Palace like hell’s hounds were nipping at his heels, ignoring how the winter wind bitterly nipped at his cheeks, at the wetness staining his face, intensifying the chill and its painful bite. 

He couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t be. 

He couldn’t leave Taxian-jun. Chu Wanning couldn’t leave Mo Ran.

If Chu Wanning left-

If he was dead, then-

What would Mo Ran have left? Who would he even be?

What would be the point of living in a world devoid of Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran ripped open the doors of the Red Lotus Pavilion, his feet automatically carrying him to Chu Wanning’s room, where he found Chu Wanning, lying in his bed, wrapped tightly in blood-red sheets, curled into a tiny ball, just as he always was. The sight both eased and aggravated something that seethed deep within Taxian-jun’s chest. He wasn’t able to breathe. Not yet.

In his haste he stumbled, almost fell, hurrying over the Chu Wanning’s side and without preamble or finesse, yanked one of his arms free from the blankets to clutch desperately as his wrist, searching for a pulse. Mo Ran only needed a single heartbeat to discern that, while softened by slumber, life did indeed still live inside Chu Wanning’s body. And then another heartbeat later, phoenix eyes fluttered open, moonlight catching on long, dark lashes that lifted to reveal hazy amber eyes.

“What-” Chu Wanning started, voice slurring with sleep, eyes only beginning to sharpen with that familiar hate when, without hesitation, Mo Ran pulled Chu Wanning into his arms.

“Wanning!” Taxian-jun gasped, wet, against the side of Chu Wanning’s neck. “You’re here. You’re okay,” Taxian-jun said this as if he couldn’t quite believe it. As if he daren’t hope.

“Mo Ran!” Chu Wanning thrashed inside his arms, hitting his shoulders, but Mo Ran bore it. He wouldn’t risk loosening his grip even a fraction. If he did, if he was careless, if he allowed Chu Wanning to slip away from him, a ghost once more…..Mo Ran hugged him tighter, tight enough to break him. Tight enough to break them both. Soon, Chu Wanning’s struggle ceased. He stilled, stiff and awkward in the cage of Mo Ran’s embrace. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter, a question Mo Ran had no idea how to answer, unable to grasp what the question even truly was.

“Mo Ran?”

Mo Ran shuddered, pulling away, looking into Chu Wanning’s sharp phoenix eyes, eyes that glimmered with light, with life. Eyes that had gone openly, nakedly wide.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this Venerable One,” Taxian-jun hissed vehemently, his heart a painful beat inside of his chest as his hands cupped Chu Wanning’s face, forcing him to meet the fire raging in Taxian-jun’s eyes, the flames that threatened to swallow them both. “Do you understand? This Venerable One forbids it! I forbid you from - who do you think you are……”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gripped his wrists, pulling Mo Ran’s hands away from his face. A face, Mo Ran realized with a start, that was shadowed, filled with too many lines to ignore. “Calm down. You’re shaking.”

Was he? Impossible. But as Mo Ran glanced down to where Chu Wanning’s pale hands tightly gripped his wrist, he noticed his fingers flexing, curling around nothing, wracked with unceasing tremors. 

It was cold outside. He’d run straight out of his bedroom, dressed in only his inner robe….of course, he was shaking. He was furious - Taxian-jun was livid, filled with fiery anger that would not abate, that roiled through his veins like fire. It was maddening. It had nowhere to go. Taxian-jun couldn’t understand it, couldn’t make sense of it, why it felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. All he knew was that he had held Chu Wanning’s cold, lifeless body inside of his arms, and it had felt real, in the way nothing had in a long, long time. Chu Wanning had left him. Chu Wanning had left him behind, and he wasn’t supposed to leave Taxian-jun, not until Taxian-jun allowed it, which he never would, because Chu Wanning was his, dammit. Despite his hatred, or because of it, Chu Wanning was Taxian-jun’s, and Taxian-jun was-

A cough crawled up his throat, and another, and another, until soon his chest was heaving, his ribs shuddering, his lungs bereft of all breath. Distantly, Taxian-jun registered the taste of blood filling his mouth, cloying and astringent. Taxian-jun felt like laughing. Mo Ran felt like crying.

But when Mo Ran saw Chu Wanning lift a hand towards his wound, a flare of panic ripped through his heart, an icy-cold, paralytic horror he hadn’t felt in years. Mo Ran caught Chu Wanning’s wrist, squeezing, needing the reassurance of a pulse.  

“Don’t. Don’t do it,” Mo Ran rasped, hating how his voice broke. “If you heal this wound….I’ll never forgive you. You can’t.”

Chu Wanning looked at him, brows furrowed, mouth set in a soft frown. Taxian-jun hated it. Hated how Chu Wanning would take this pathetic display as weakness. He was probably judging Mo Ran right now, sneering at him inside his heart, thinking him such a fool-

Taxian-jun almost flinched when the back of a soft, cool hand came to rest against his forehead. He felt his lips part, but no words came to rush out. No insults, no curses, no words of pure, unadulterated hate.

Foolishly, for a moment, Mo Ran wanted to call a name that he hadn’t in years, “....Shizun?”

“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning whispered, a cold hand cupping his cheek, a gentle thumb drying a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. “You must wake up.”

Taxian-jun stared at him, dazed. “Wake up?” He muttered, shaking his head, voice shrinking as he breathed, hesitantly. “This is….just a dream?”

The delicate jut of Chu Wanning’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, “Mn,” and then, with featherlight fingers, ever-so-carefully, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Taxian-jun’s ear. For a second, Mo Ran found himself leaning into the touch. “It’s just a dream.”

“I didn’t know,” Mo Ran told him, hushed like a secret. “It felt so real. This Venerable One….is confused. I’ve just been so confused, lately. It’s Xue Meng’s fault. This fucking wound - it hurts, all of the time. My chest won’t stop hurting. It’s driving me insane.” 

Mo Ran bit his tongue before he could reveal more. Even in a dream, it felt far too vulnerable, far too stupid to reveal such a fear. Mo Ran had ears and he heard all the rumors the people whispered below his throne. He was a tyrant. He was bloodthirsty, cruel, worse than a beast. He was losing himself. 

He was going mad. 

“Wanning, how do I….how do I know what is real?” Mo Ran muttered, burying his face inside his hands to hide his burning eyes. He was just-

Mo Ran was tired. So, so very tired. He ached, down to his very bones. 

“Lie down,” Chu Wanning murmured, guiding Mo Ran to the bed. “You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

Something in Mo Ran protested this gentleness - surely it was only a prelude to more cruelty? But exhaustion was a heavy, pressing force. Inescapable. Like a limp puppet, all strings cut, Taxian-jun allowed himself to be arranged supine, and though every fiber of his being shied away from the almost gentle way the blankets were tucked in around his body, for some reason he couldn’t muster up the strength to bat Chu Wanning away, like he normally would have. In fact, Mo Ran couldn’t seem to tear his eyes, lucifugous and hot, away from Chu Wanning at all. And when Chu Wanning stood it was entirely involuntary, the way Mo Ran’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

“Will you be here, when this Venerable One wakes?” Taxian-jun asked, and maybe he meant it as a threat, but it came out as a desperate plea. Still, the derision and contempt he had come to expect from Chu Wanning was nowhere to be seen on his visage which looked in the shadows, simply put, haunted. Conflicted. 

Lovelorn. 

“Mn,” Chu Wanning sat down beside him, and didn’t try to free himself from Mo Ran’s grip. “I’ll be here.”

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

“....I promise.”

Taxian-jun nodded, and though he began to drift, caught in-between veils of the living world and the insensate realm of black, his grip around Chu Wanning did not loosen, and he still found himself whispering a question, one he somehow knew only Chu Wanning held the answer to. 

“Do you think dreams have any meaning?”

Just before unconsciousness could claim him once more, a whisper rang through his ears, soft-spoken yet achingly clear. 

“Sometimes.”

Then….Mo Ran just wouldn’t go. Chu Wanning couldn’t do anything foolish so long as Mo Ran stayed to make sure he behaved. Right? He couldn’t let Xue Meng live, or that damn Mei Hanxue - but he could think up another plan. He had time.  

-

Chu Wanning didn’t know how long it had been since Mo Ran had cried in front of him. Certainly, not since he was a boy

That meant he was still in there, somewhere. A heart still beat within the blackened, thorny brambles wrapped around Mo Ran’s chest.

There was still hope. 

There was still a way back from hell. 

Chu Wanning’s breath shuddered as it left his lungs. 

He wouldn’t leave his disciple. He wouldn’t stand back and watch as Mo Ran lost any more of himself than he already had. 

“It will be okay, Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning murmured, watching how the moonlight flickered across Mo Ran’s sleeping face, and how the knot of tension in between his brows only smoothed out when Chu Wanning squeezed his hand, tight, tight enough to leave his mark. “This master promises. I won’t leave you behind.”

[animalsalvationassociation]

Has anything serious happened to Director Scratch? Like her getting kidnapped, hurt, falling ill, attempted life, etc.

(This is a back up one just incase my other one got deleted.... it tends to happen a lot.)

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Illustration Time: 8hrs 49min

BEAVENS TO HETSY—YA’LL HOW THE FUDGE DO I HAVE A 100+ FOLLOWERS ALREADY????? I AM SO EMOTIONAL RN IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY. IMMA GO CRY NOW GEEZ!!! (Go check out the 100 Goal poll before it ends. I’ve decided to wait the 3-4 days that it has left on there before I make anything, just to make sure everyone got a chance vote)

Thank you for you patience @kuri-kushmi ! I know you were really excited for this one, I hope I did our lovely Peggy justice!

Notes:

Yo is that young Inkling???? Whaaaaa????

Had a mutual threatened me when I sent a pic of Peggy crying. They were about to throw down, but its okay Peggy has tissues now. Her trauma is forever healed because of good vibes . . . yep thats how that works :)

I also wanted to preface this just in case I had any other asks that may be similar. Just because it hasn’t happened before doesn’t mean it won’t happen in the future. The story has yet to be completely written so there is plenty of room for extra stuff to be added. I literally don’t even have a chapter written out . . . we’re working on it . . . maybe . . . I’m trying but my brain doesn’t want to brain! (stupid ADHD) I’ve been doing this for almost 12 years why can’t I writeeeeeee???

I should not have adult money . . . no I will not explain ur welcome

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

[razzlerdazzler]

hi! can I request a little mermaid inspired au for Jack Frost and reader? kinda like where y/n is ariel and she could be a human interested in the mythical world as a subversion?

Jack Frost X Reader/ Little Mermaid AU

You two first met while you were in human form

He was pleasantly surprised when you noticed him, happy that you were a believer and that you could actually see him

However that happiness quickly turned into shock and worry when you jumped into the water

He was about to go in after you until you poked your head out of the water and a big, beautiful mermaid tail followed

After that encounter, you both quickly bonded and became fast friends, and soon started dating

He loves listening to you rant and talk about myths and folk tales

whenever you talk about your passion he's just staring at you with a lovesick smile on his face

He tells you about different spirits he's met that sound similar or are actually the characters from the folk tales or myths that you talk about

He even introduces you to Jamie and loves watching you both geek out over myths and different folk tales

He introduces you to the rest of the guardians, who are all very surprised and happy to meet you

He thinks its super cool that you have two different forms and always compliments you and tells you how amazing you are

Whenever you're in mermaid form he likes to admire your tail and scales

If you can sing then he loves to listen to you and always compliments you on how beautiful you sound

He also likes to lay his head in your lap while you hum or sing to him

He tells you about his sister and about how he died in a frozen lake

He also tells you about his experiences as a spirit and a guardian

He likes to call you nicknames related to your powers

He likes to watch you swim around and watch you do tricks in the water with your tail

Sometimes he splashes you, causing your big tail to splash him back, leaving him completely soaked

He likes to go ice skating with you and feels safe knowing that if anything happens while you're out ice skating then at least you'll be okay if the ice ever breaks

He likes to cuddle with you a lot, it doesn't matter whether you're in your mermaid form or not

He just wants to show you how much he appreciates and loves you

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this done. I hope I did your request justice. I wasn't sure whether you wanted headcanons or a story, so I decided to do this. If you ever want a story of this, please feel free to message me or send a request. Also please feel free to send any other requests you have if you want to. Sorry again for taking so long, I hope you like it :)

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 Fic: "For All Life and For All Time" (A CS Dracula AU in 3 Parts)

Author's Notes: Okay, so this is posted late, on a day that was luckily unclaimed. I struggled with doing justice to the work that probably began my love of all things Victorian Gothic, and re-reading it again for plotting and inspiration certainly didn't make the prospect any less daunting. While I love the original Bram Stoker novel's epistolary format, it was not something I wanted to carry on for an entire fic. Nor is this fully true to the original's narrative. I do hope that those who have read the novel and enjoyed it may find nods to the original to make them smile. I didn't want to make Killian the Dracula character - he is neither at all attractive nor redeemable in the original work - so he became my Van Helsing. Emma is the kick-butt awesome Mina Harker, quite a standout female character for that time, but I did away with the Jonathan Harker character altogether.

This starts in the middle of the action, then has a fair bit of reflection to bring readers up to speed. The next installment should have more action and pick up where this one leaves off.

A MILLION thank yous to @myfearless-love for all the editing work she did - my writing is quite a mess when I first translate it from my handwritten pages to a doc! She made it so much better, and I am incredibly grateful!!

A Victorian, Dracula-inspired AU in Three Parts

Please Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

**Also available on AO3, if you prefer

Part One

by: @snowbellewells

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the impenetrable darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces, making her stomach pitch and her heart leap into her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call the driver, beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words as she gripped the seat tightly. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma was nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches beside the carriage doors flickered wildly behind the glass sconces but barely made pinpricks of light in the surrounding night; deep blackness which had swallowed them since leaving the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Emma realized belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought by attempting to stare blindly into the void while they hurtled forward, and instead forced herself to lean her head against the seat back and close her eyes, resolutely taking deep, calming breaths.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow. It was a different sort of thrill which then ran along her spine - distinct from the chill which had settled on her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet friendship and from the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out in this last effort to ensnare the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian heights seemed to weigh on her more with every mile they gained.

Yet, despite the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. The Professor had turned Emma Swan’s already teetering world upon its axis. He was beyond description - no words could capture what his mere presence, his voice, a glance in her direction could do to her - a power no man had ever held before, because she would not allow it. And yet every hair on her body stood on end when he was near; her awareness utterly captured by the mysterious scholar. He had introduced himself merely as Killian Jones when they met at Aurora’s sick bed, but as they had nursed her together, even when their every desperate attempt proved futile, it had become clear his vast intellect, his determination and resolve, placed him well beyond the scope of any man she had met before - or likely would again.

By the time he had spoken the truth of the fiend who had siphoned Aurora’s life before their eyes, she could not doubt him, even in the face of the utterly impossible - a vampire.

This ancient evil, Count Dracula, had ruled his isolated corner of the world for ages, but in coming to England and extending his reach, he was a threat to all mankind. Aurora had been only a prelude to what he intended. A monster of myth and legend had destroyed her innocent friend, and without pausing for rest, he had stalked and marked Emma as his next victim, only she had the advantage of awareness and warning enough to resist.

Though the threat was deadly, and knowing what she faced - stakes and dark graveyards and the betrayal of her very humanity from what she gathered of Aurora’s end that no one would speak of in full - Emma did not wish to be shielded and to wait hidden in safety while others risked their lives for her sake. She would have her hand in it, even if that meant to some extent playing the helpless damsel as bait in the trap.

To Killian, it was personal as well. He had still been a medical student long ago, traveling to study folk remedies in Romania when he met a darkly beautiful Countess, lonely and sad, all too eager to join him on his travels. She had set his world aflame - first in joy, and then in ruin, for she had not been as free as he had believed. He had fallen for her, and then seen her drained of life by her husband - the creature of night who had proven nightmares lived and walked the earth. Killian had only survived that first encounter because the Count wished him to suffer. For years, Killian had studied and prepared. He had made himself into an expert much different than he had once aimed, and he had intended for his suffering to end only when his life, or the Count’s, did as well.

There was a fine line to walk, however, between justice and bitter revenge. When he had seen the desire for reprisal in Emma after Aurora’s death, when she learned of the indignity to which the young beauty had been subjected and the lengths to which the men who cared for her had gone to assure her peaceful rest, she had sworn she would see this Count Dracula pay for his cruelty somehow. That was when Killian had told her all. “Do not fall into that trap, Swan,” he had spoken softly, though the import of his words was unmistakable. “That way lies ruin - only wasted years and endless torment.”

His blue eyes bored into her very soul as he strove to make her see. “When I lost my love, my Milah, I sore revenge upon her foul husband, the vampire who murdered her without remorse. I was nearly consumed, and when I finally came back to myself, I realized that seeking only retribution would make a monster of me as well. That was when I took on the name Van Helsing, obtained my licenses and degrees with it in fact, in the hope of evading his detection while I waited and watched and the years crept by. I must pursue the course for the sake of all, but not for my own ends, my own anger and hate.”

He would not release her eyes, his focus searing as he continued, “You too must find a way to separate yourself, to retain your purity of heart despite the terrible mission you undertake. Do what you must to save all, but do so without letting it twist your soul with similar darkness.”

And so, in their desperate alliance, they all had their roles to play - Aurora’s bowed but unbroken suitors, and she, Aurora’s dearest friend. The three gentlemen had rallied around Emma, swearing to protect her in her friend’s name. And Killian, their worthy advisor and leader, had not yet steered them wrong. She wanted justice and what retribution could be found for the torment Aurora had suffered. None of them would falter. They had taken solemn vows. Now all that remained was to see the mission through.

Emma could only wonder how had her life been altered so drastically in a few short weeks. Such thoughts replayed through her mind in what was at first a rose-tinged procession as she recalled how bright and full of promise she had been when first arriving on the coast of Whitby for a holiday with her childhood playmate. It had been some time since she and Aurora had seen each other, and those first days on the shore were spent in a haze of sunshine and laughter. They caught up with one another’s lives as they shared tea and biscuits on the wide veranda of the Spindleton’s gorgeous summer cottage. They giggled under the covers long into the nights, whispering of Aurora’s debut season, the many eager suitors who had vied to court her, and her blushing fondness for her chosen fiancé Sir Philip Thornswood, Lord Briarling. They also chuckled over Emma’s adventures - how she disguised herself in men’s pants to move freely while researching her stories, and the various pseudonyms she used when submitting her pieces for publication, subverting the male-dominated publishing world. 

It had been an idyllic change from the crowded, dingy part of London where Emma could afford to live and work. Aurora’s family belonged to the upper echelon of society, well-known and old-moneyed, and Emma had been mostly alone in the world for as long as she could remember. She was discovered on the front stoop of the Widow Lucas’ boarding house as an infant, wrapped in a snow white baby blanket with her name stitched in purple as the only clue to her identity. Fortunately, the Widow Lucas was a formidable woman, well-versed in making her way in the world against harrowing odds. She had already raised a granddaughter who was now off traveling the continent, so she took in the little blonde foundling and raised Emma as her own, teaching her all she knew. Though the tough older woman - “Granny” to all who knew her, especially Emma - had been gone for some years now, Emma remained eternally grateful that it was her doorstep her unknown parents had chosen that cold dawn so long ago.

Granny had even managed to scrounge and save enough, and was willing to spare Emma’s assistance twice a week, for riding lessons - where Emma had met Aurora Spindleton. Though poor Aurora had been an absolute lost cause at equestrian pursuits, Emma had excelled with enthusiasm, and everyone involved was relieved when she took the slightly younger future debutante under her wing during their lessons.

Emma loved the freedom riding gave her, and Granny was glad to know her charge would have the ability to get help quickly and effectively if ever needed - and defend herself too, if her skill in archery and marksmanship was any indication. In truth, Granny had been secretly delighted. She had lived long enough to know just how dangerous the world could be, and she wanted to see her girl as prepared as possible without completely tarnishing her outlook.

Though Aurora’s family was of a higher social standing, they had always been welcoming and kind to Emma whenever she visited their townhouse in Mayfair. She sensed that they were glad their only child had found a practical friend who could provide a steadying influence on Aurora’s naive, head-in-the-clouds sweetness. Since gossip photographers insisted on capturing and reporting the doings of the peerage, her parents were certainly relieved that Emma’s tips and encouragement had kept Aurora from being caught falling off her mount or in some other embarrassing faux pas. Aurora, for her part, was so endearing and open that Emma couldn’t resist being charmed. She might have been cosseted and sheltered, but she was hardly the sort of snob Emma had expected to encounter when mingling with the upper crust during her lessons. Instead, Emma was pleasantly surprised to make her first close friend - a friendship that lasted for years, with Emma always missing the Spindletons when they left for the shore in summer, counting down the days until her confidante would return.

This year, however, she had received a request, along with a train ticket, to join them at Whitby. It had been wonderful - strolling, swimming, and lovely summer hours blending together joyously - until all had gone horribly wrong. If only the happy, haze of sunshine-warm days had not gone dark and tinged with blood.

Aurora had already been betrothed to Philip by the time Emma had arrived. Still, it had been lovely to meet each of the worthy men who had sought her hand. With not an ounce of malice in her slender body, they had each sworn their friendship and fealty, even after the troth had been gently rejected. Even without Aurora there to blush and smile sweetly while introducing them, Emma could easily see why her friend might have been drawn to each in his own way, despite the obvious differences between them. All the men who had sought Aurora’s hand in marriage were honorable and true, respectable and worthy beyond reproach. Their faithfulness to Aurora tested beyond natural bounds and withstood the onslaught, and Emma felt the protection of their bravery as they had rallied around her when she faced a similar fate. If only any one of them had understood what had preyed on Aurora before it had been too late!

Philip Thornswood, Aurora’s betrothed, was the most like her young friend in Emma’s eyes. Upon first meeting the landed peer, she felt the warmth in his large, chocolate eyes, his gentle strength and charm, and she knew they would have melted Aurora’s heart irrevocably. There was a sad sweetness to his expression, as if Emma herself returned a bit of his lost love to him with her presence. He had bent over her hand to gallantly kiss its back, and she had blinked away tears for the happiness that Aurora would never enjoy, knowing the two would have been well-matched beyond her friend’s wildest dreams. All she could do was press his hand in return, and give him a wordless smile she only hoped might express her bittersweet feelings.

Graham Morris, from the wild, rolling hills of Ireland - a cowboy of sorts, as they would call it in the Americas - was a man of few words and swift action, easily winning and debonair, but  also a bit rumpled and informal. He was clearly happier out of doors, more comfortable in the woods and riding horses than in a crowd of people, and yet his easy good humor and almost bashful regard could easily have swayed her young friend. He was an excellent shot, ever on the alert, and a godsend to have in their desperate endeavor.

The third suitor, Dr. Jefferson Seward, was a celebrated and innovative physician who had fought to restore Aurora’s health with every fiber of his energy. If the foe he had battled had been a mortal man rather than an immortal being, Emma had no doubt they would have prevailed. Though he was slightly older, he was thoughtful and doting; Aurora would have naturally been fond of him. The affection between them had been undaunted by her choice of another - so much so that when Jefferson had found himself losing the fight for her life, he had urgently sent for his friend, the renown Professor Van Helsing, expert on the supernatural forces, to do what he could not.

And that was how she had come to be in this rattling horse-drawn carriage, racing up a treacherous mountain path. The devious monster who had taken everything from Aurora - and who now threatened to drain Emma’s own life as well - awaited her in the deserted outpost at the end of this long night’s journey. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. Every few minutes, her fingers reflexively gripped her reticule, its strap looped around her wrist, drawing comfort from the small Derringer hidden within its folds. She also took strength from the knife secured in a special holster at the top of her stockings, pressing against her thigh. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Professor Van Helsing - Killian - explaining its purpose as he presented her with the clever sheath. He had been deathly serious about her safety, but there also had been a heated flicker of clear attraction when she shyly gestured to ascertain where it should be worn, a moment that had ignited a warmth deep inside her.

The gentle feathering of gray in his hair near his temples and sideburns reminded her of the vast experience and knowledge he had gathered in his life - the very things they were all counting on to help them survive. The deeper lines around his startlingly bright blue eyes and at the corners of his firm lips reminded her that he had once smiled much more than he allowed himself to now. It made Emma wish to see him do so again. Everything about the man radiated power and purpose, commanding her respect from the moment they met, just as Aurora’s terrifying affliction had reached its peak. 

They had not won the victory any of them had prayed for, least of all Lord Briarling. Emma had hardly been able to bear looking at the strong young man bowed by grief as she had boarded the carriage for her mission. Philip Thornswood had given her a hand up onto the step, and was the last to speak to her before Killian Van Helsing’s own farewell. The gloom in his demeanor made her very glad she was not leaving the young gentleman alone, but in the company of true comrades. Even so, she trusted that Philip would not allow himself to falter in their cause. That steady hand, such a gentle support for her own as she ascended into the carriage, might have trembled in the doing, but had not hesitated to drive a stake into the breast of one he loved most in all the world for the sake of her eternal soul.

Breaking from her reflection on the journey’s beginning, Emma remembered herself suddenly as an eerie calm seeming to settle over her surroundings. She was instantly on alert when the carriage began to slow. A shiver of trepidation ran up her spine, returning her harshly to the present and the task before her. Outside there was a foreboding, unnatural quiet, only the crunch of the carriage wheels and the sound of the horses’ hooves on the rough ground broke the eerie silence. They rolled to a stop, and Emma leaned from the window, intent on calling up question the driver.

To her utter confusion and horror, when she glimpsed the seat where the driver had perched, she found no one there. He was gone, and she was stranded alone in the dark. Uncertain of what to do, but knowing she could not stay on the desolate mountain pass in the cold, Emma exited the carriage and alighted on the ground. As her feet touched the rough stone and dirt beneath, some unnerving signal was sounded. The silence was broken by the howling of wolves - loud, spine-tingling, and coming from every side, all around them.

There was no way to outrun them, and as the echo and answer of their baying circled nearer, Emma knew there was no way through their number at any rate, even without being able to see. The horses stamped and tossed their heads nervously, panic driving them as instinct warned them predators lingered just beyond the faint circles of light from the carriage lamps. She would not leave them to be devoured; nor would she lie down and wait to be torn apart herself. She was nearly there!

Desperate and trembling, but steeling her resolve, Emma moved to the front of the carriage, intending to climb up onto the driver’s box, take the reins, and break through the pack, to drive them to the castle herself. It might have been her imagination, her terror breathing life into her senses, but it felt as though the creatures drew closer still. She could almost hear the heavy pants and growls between their mournful howls and feel their hot, slavering breath on the back of her neck. A nervous glance over her shoulder showed only moving flashes of grey fur and horrifying red eyes shining out of the shadows. She had gripped the metal railing to pull herself up when all seemed to fall away, the night going perfectly still.

A dark figure glided with unnatural grace through the mass of half-seen forms. The pack almost seemed to bow their shaggy, sharp-toothed heads before it, if Emma could at all reconcile that impression in her mind. One would almost believe they had been summoned.

The slim, dark, and sinister figure appeared before her, having reached her almost before Emma could mark his movement. Wearing a fine black cloak trimmed in thick fur and reaching almost to the ground, Emma saw little else but the flash of deep garnet in its lining and the glimmer of an evil, yet irresistible, smile. A pale hand reached out of the folds of the garment, outstretched to take hers in strangely formal greeting.

“I believe you are seeking me,” a sibilant voice nearly crooned.

Emma fought back a shudder at the sight of dagger-sharp nails at the end of long fingers somehow reminiscent of spider legs, pulling her into the web. She wanted to deny his claim, but all resistance failed her. What else could she do but allow the cold, dry hand to encase her own, and pull her forward through the wolves and dark and gathering mist? This was the nightmare she had come to find…

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @laschatzi

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @myfearless-love @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @lfh1226-linda

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @drowned-dreamer

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @resident-of-storybrooke @everything-person

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@goforlaunchcee @laianely @belovedcreation @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot

@grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd